Binding Ties
by BriLee7796
Summary: Ana is a 25-year-old woman with a horrific past. She bears the scars of traumas physically and emotionally. Can Christian do for her what years of therapy have never achieved; bringing her out of her living hell to a place of endless pleasure, or will their relationship prove to be too much and push her further over the edge?
1. Ch: 1

AN: I would willingly accept any feedback/reviews/etc that anyone wants to share with me! This is a story very close to my heart, so please, read and review! Our beloved Christian and Ana will have different characteristics and pasts but I think you'll love them just the same! Thanks for your time! Enjoy xx

Also: I was asked by a guest reviewer to add a "trigger warning", while I don't usually identify fully with the idea of doing this, I will because I want to take care of my readers. The word trigger can mean many things so I'll preface by saying that Ana and Christian's pasts in this story are hard, the flashbacks may be graphic, but it's a very real representation for me. If dealing with issues of sexual abuse or child abuse are an issue for you, this may not be the story for you. That being said- if you decide to read, please review and I hope you enjoy this journey of my Christian and Ana.

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I rub my wrists reflexively, shuddering slightly as my fingers rub over the scars. I stare down at my semicolon tattoo and recall the reason I got it in the first place. "You are enough. Your life could have ended that day, but you got another chance. Your sentence is not over. You continue on. You are alive, beautiful. You are alive." I repeat these words in my mind and am pulled from my distraction by Kate, my support group leader.

Kate Kline is a beautiful woman; strong, confidant, and compassionate. She is only five years older than I am but I look to her with immense admiration. Her brown eyes that glitter with empathy make me feel seen and understood. Her brown hair hangs past her ribcage, her skin the shade of caramel, her frame petite and lean. She exudes warmth and love sitting before me in a navy blue shift dress that hits just above her knee covered by a tan boyfriend style sweater and pale nude heels. I look down to my torn jeans, blue canvas toms, and grey Dave Matthews Band t-shirt and feel slightly more inadequate at the thought.

"Ana, would you share your personification writing of the feeling you're currently experiencing with the group please?" She asks pointedly. I know she's caught me in a moment of distraction purposefully to bring me back to the group. I take a deep breath before reading my work. I can feel my body shake as I speak. _I really hate sharing. I hate this group. I know it helps, but it's too damn hard to feel anything, even still._

"Drained. Drained is the man formerly known as resilience. The boy he used to be would run and play for hours. Nothing could slow him down- not pain, not loss, not neglect. He would cry, yell, kick and scream in response, but he never gave in. He never shut down. Not once. As he grew older, a new pattern occurred. He found his vibrancy fading, difficult to even lift his head off the pillow at the sound of his alarm. No longer dressed in bright blue t-shirts with yellow baseball caps topped with propellers that spun as he ran through open fields, full of laughter and life. No. He traded them in for faded dirty jeans, timberlands whose soles were developing mouths of their own, and stained shirts three sizes too big. He's got dirt under his nails and grease in his hair. Every day he walks with a limp. He explains to loved ones 'I've just no energy to fight against the tide. Come what may. I'll watch it pass by.' He thinks quietly to himself before closing his eyes, 'maybe tomorrow will finally be the day when I find some of that old energy to roll out of bed, stand on my feet, and walk tall toward what I want once more... I just want to feel alive again'. But the sun will rise and set and rise and set and rise and set and still…"

I choke back the tears that form in my eyes as I read. _I will not cry. I cry every damn session. I will not cry. I don't want to feel this shit anymore. I'm not coming back on Thursday. That's it. I won't do it. _But I know with every fiber of my being that I will return to my seat, across from Kate, with the clock behind me and the door twenty steps away. It's incredible how often those twenty steps feel as though they take a millennium to complete.

When I finish reading I cannot bear to lift my eyes to my group members. I stare silently at the paper, watching it move with the result of my trembling. I study my cuticles and note that I'm in need of a manicure. Let's face it; I've been in need of a manicure all my life. I just don't take care of myself the way I should.

_Why should you? You're not worth it. _

I try to shrug off the familiar voice in my head. I know you're just trying to hurt me, I silently whisper back. You don't control me. You don't own me. I have the power. But even as I think it, the words don't hold as much conviction as I'd like.

Kate again pulls me out of my thoughts.

"Ana, that was a powerful image you just portrayed. Thank you. Anyone in the group have any feedback, comments, or questions on what she's just shared with us?" I close my eyes tightly hoping for a wall of silence so she'll move on.

"I was really struck by your visual images of the boy and the man and how juxtaposed they are," remarked Cam, a woman slightly older than I with wild dark black hair, a pale heart shaped face, and emerald green eyes highlighted by her long-sleeved purple button down and dark jeans. Even with her horrid past, she always manages to present herself as put together and strong. I feel a surge of jealously that I've still not managed to do the same.

I never know how to respond in activities like this. I don't want to respond. I want to disappear, but I've known Kate long enough to know that the silence allowed for long when processing in groups.

"That's how it feels." I say simply, twisting my fingers together and chewing nervously on the inside of my cheek.

"I hated that there wasn't a resolution for drained. I wanted him to find peace and life again… not to necessarily transform back into resilience once more, but blossom into… umm… something more like comfort or vibrancy or… I don't know exactly what, but something more." Cam continued speaking and others joined her, talking about how my piece affected them, how they did and didn't relate to it, but I went to another place all together.

Cam's one of the few people who truly understands me. She's been in the program a little longer than I and we know one another's stories inside and out. As part of our rape survivor therapy, we've been attending our support group together for the past two years.

Over this time, I've progressed immensely. When I first began, I couldn't even step inside the door. I would sit outside for the entire session and bite my nails until they bled. In two weeks, attending sessions biweekly, every Monday and Thursday, I was able to sit in the room but outside the circle for half the session before retreating to my station guarding the door and chewing the skin around my nails. After three weeks, I was able to sit in the room the entire hour session. Then eventually, after just over a month, I was able to remain present in the circle of chairs, with my nine female peers and one facilitator, for the entire session. It was a really big step for me. After each group, Cam would sit on the floor next to me, reassuring me that eventually, one day soon, I'd be able to join the group for an entire session, and then be able to participate. She used to say, "you'll cease to just survive and begin to thrive." It's been two years and I still don't see thriving on the horizon, but I've got surviving down.

Words from the group filter through as more members weigh in on my writing, "hope", "monster", "darkness", "shame", "fault", but nothing brings me back to the present. I can feel that familiar pull tearing me from the present into the darkness. It suddenly and simultaneously feels as though I'm on fire, drowning, and lying with an anvil on my chest. I can smell the faint air of cigarettes and can hear his breath rushing through his teeth. I feel the restraints around my wrists and the bile rise in my throat. I take shallow ragged breaths and clench my fists so hard my nails bite through my flesh. Yes, the pain helps to ground me. A physical sensation to take away the shame, hatred, and pain I'm feeling overwhelmed by.

It takes Kate kneeling in front of me and placing her hands on mine to snap me out of my dissociated state.

"Anastasia, take three deep breaths. Focus on my voice and your breathing. In and out. In and out," she coaches while she models three cycles of a deep inhale and exhale. "You are in session and in the group room of the clinic. You are surrounded with people who love you and support you. Tell me three things you see in the room right now."

She waits for my response as I stare blankly at her face in front of me; his voice tears at my eardrums rivaling the loud pounding of my blood against them, '_you are mine. No one else will want you now. I'll assure of that.'_

"Ana," Kate says, more forcefully this time, "tell me three things you see in the room right now." Her eyes are kind and soft.

"Your brown eyes, Cam's purple shirt, and the green rug," I manage to choke out. My throat feels as though it's not had water in years and my chest flames. My blood pounding in my ears has won out over the rasps of his words. I was so wrapped in my panic that I didn't even register the physical effects until Kate began to pull me back to the present moment. My head feels full and heavy.

_Shit. I hate feeling so out of control. Fuck him for doing this to me. Fuck him for making my life a living fucking hell. _

My throat clenches and the tears begin to flood.

Kate's voice breaks through my thoughts again, "Ana, listen to my voice. The group is going to help support you. Together let's breathe in," I hear the group inhale together, "and exhale," a sound of breath pushing out of our lungs collectively pulls me back in yet again. We repeat this three times until I am more fully aware of my surroundings once more. Kate looks into my eyes and asks what my safety level is at the moment. I tell her an eight out of ten. I don't want to harm myself or anyone else, I just feel shaken from my panic. As my heart rate slows to normal and the blood ceases to pound in my ears, I return my attention to the group. Kate has decided to use my panic attack as an example of why grounding and mindfulness are so important in the treatment of trauma. I nod my head in agreement but tune out her words. I suddenly feel exhausted and want nothing more than to fall into my bed when I leave.

The session comes to a close and Cam gently clasps my hand as we head out into the New York sunshine. It's a warm May afternoon and the air is thick with exhaust fumes, hot dog vendors, and the sound of cab driver's laying on their horns. I still cannot fathom why I find these smells and sounds so incredibly comforting, but I do. As our feet begin to pad down the block, I stare intently at the concrete below our feet. My right foot moving in tandem with her left clothed in purple high heeled Steve Maddens to match her shirt.

"Ana, are you going to be okay tonight on your own?" She asks, breaking the silence between us.

"Yes. Even though Jessica is out of town tonight, I'll be fine. And I told you; I'd call if I need you there. I promise I will."

She gives me a sideways glance of skepticism to remind me of just how well this woman has come to know me, habits and flaws and all, but finally nods and gives in. We reach her apartment, a cold twenty-two-story metal and glass monster, and embrace goodbye. I feel a sudden pinch in my throat as we depart. I hear the door to her building click shut and glance over my shoulder to be sure she's no longer outside. I pick up my pace for the remaining four blocks to my apartment. My feet are pounding so heavily against the concrete sidewalk that I feel the reverberations in my cheeks. My hands stuffed firmly into my front jean pockets, balled into fists.

I live in a six-story brick walk-up with peeling paint, stairs that creak, and a grey-haired doorman named Joe. I fell in love with the apartment three years ago when a move to a comfortable and safe environment became a dire necessity.

"Afternoon, Miss Steele, how are you today?" Joe asks as he tips his hat and slides aside, opening the door.

"I'm well today, how are you Joe?" The smile on my face is genuine and completely foreign. Smiling is a relatively new concept in my life after he stole my passion for living. I cherish the moments when it appears naturally and without coercion.

"Very well thank you. Are you going to be alright with Miss Jones in Boston?"

Joe has always had a very avuncular or fatherly feel for me. Jennifer finds him to hover slightly, but his presence has always reassured me. He is a frail man, but I believe he'd do anything he could to protect me.

"With you standing by the door, I think I'll be just fine, Joe." I say as I wave goodbye and head through the doors and up the stairs to my apartment.

I count the stairs as I ascend them. Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty, and another five steps to my door. It's off-white with a burlap welcome mat on the floor. I enter and am greeted with the small of lavender and chamomile hanging in the air. I quickly scan the kitchen and living room after shutting and locking the door with the double deadbolt and chain locks. I grab the baseball bat from the umbrella stand and quietly make my way through the apartment, looking in every closet, behind every curtain, and under every bed and table until I'm sure the premises is clear. By the time I finish I am covered in a sheen of sweat and my hands are trembling.

I enter the kitchen and grab a bottle of red wine from the bar top, pull out the cork, and sit on the couch with it directly in hand. I've gotten used to never drinking from a glass anymore. I'm fully aware I'll drink the entirety of the bottle and who the hell wants useless dishes to have to do? Not me. I flip mindlessly through the channels for hours before finishing the bottle of wine and stumbling into the bathroom. I brush my teeth and begin to wash my face when I hear a noise that stops me in my tracks. _Shit._

I turn off the water and grab the towel from the rack. I strain my ear to listen for the cause of the sound, my ears pulled back like a dog's, straining the skin on my scalp around them. I hear deep voices in the stairwell joking about the girl's they fucked tonight and my skin tightens and heats at their words. They are the college boys who live the floor above Jess and I who party all night and sleep all day every day of the week except Sunday and Tuesday. Luckily, they do most of their partying at the fraternity houses off campus and rarely bring the shenanigans to our building. Once I hear their door shut and their voices muffle under the sound of their television, I relax and run the cold water in the sink until it's ice cold. I submerge the underside of my wrists and allow the cool to creep throughout my entire body. Fucking hell. When will I ever be able to hear a man's voice and not freak out? It's not always a threat. He hasn't ruined me. None of them have. So why can't I get over it? Why can't I just move on?

But even as I think the words, I know they don't ring true. I'm not worthy of a life full of life and vibrancy. I'm destined to the life of 'drained', forever hopeful of more, but never fated to achieve it. I sigh, looking at my blue now glossy and bloodshot eyes from the bottle of wine, run my hand through my dull brown hair, hastily putting it into a ponytail before heading into my bedroom. I check to make sure my knife is securely under my pillow and quickly change into my sweatpants and long-sleeved shirt. Jess hates that I sleep armed, but I'll never take my chances again. Never again. I close my eyes and drift off into a troubled and restless sleep.


	2. Ch: 2

AN: Thank you for all the support, especially to my facebook ladies! You can find pictures/inspirations/updates and more on my facebook page just search BriLee FanFiction. As some of you know, this story began as an original, with my own characters and their very own stories, hence why Ana's back story is different and Christians will be also. If you would like to follow the journey of Alexis and Brandon which will parallel this one it's on my tumblr - bindingties1 dot tumblr dot com - so it's all a matter of preferrance, read the characters you know and love with a twist or read it with the originals. Either way is fine by me!

I hope you all enjoy this journey we're about the embark on! Read & Review please and thank you! I try my best to respond to all reviews and pm's in a timely manner but sometimes, life gets in the way, or I forget where I left off last :\** SO THANK YOU in advance! Let me know what you think!**

- Bri xx

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"Ana," he growls, his breath hot on my throat, "don't move an inch or I'll gut you like a fish." I can feel the knife pushing against my breast, so I comply. The nightmare plays out and I'm out of my body, watching it from above. I look lifeless and weak. Even ten years later, every detail follows me, haunts me.

I'm never able to sleep a solid night without a replication of it disturbing my dreams. I wake with a jolt and can smell the faint tinge of cigarettes in the air. My stomach roils and revolts against me. I grab the trashcan from my bedside and hurl into it. I'm not sure if it's the nightmare, the smell attacking my nostrils, or the bottle of wine, regardless, it sucks.

I grab the knife from beneath my pillow and repeat my ritual of scouring the apartment. I check the windows, behind curtains, under beds, in closets, and even some of the larger kitchen cabinets. I won't take any chances. I made the mistake of letting him into my life, my heart, and my home ten years ago. A friend. _Pfft, fat chance; no 'friend' would ever hurt you like that. _Okay, so I thought he was a friend.

I glance at the kitchen clock, 06:37am. Hell, I might as well get ready now; my alarm would be going off in a twenty minutes anyway. I walk back to my bedroom but the previously faint hint of cigarettes is now heavy in the air. I shake my head to clear it but take my knife with me to the bathroom to shower.

Our bathroom is small; white and black subway tiles with cracks through most of the floor, yellow and grey flowered curtains in the window, with white, grey, and yellow towels to match. I insisted on a clear shower curtain when Jess and I moved in together because I need to be able to see the room, I want to know what's coming. But Jess is a woman who loves everything to look clean and new. She offered an alternative; our shower is now separated from the rest of the bathroom by an old white French pocket door, which we refurbished from a salvage store. It's 'fuctchic' a word Jess coined for functional chic. I mentally shake my head at the memory as I remember the joy she emitted at her newfound discovery.

As I allow the water to heat I brush my teeth to rid my mouth of that horrid "dragon breath" as my mother used to call it. I giggle at the thought and spit in the most unlady like fashion to complete the process. _There, take that. _

The steam pouring from the shower notifies me that it's ready. I step under the scalding water and am rewarded with the burn across my skin. I glory momentarily in seeing my pale skin redden and in feeling the sting before I turn around to wet my hair. Yes, the pain helps. The heat makes me feel more grounded, more alert, less anxious. It's sensation not created from within, a physical sensation I can hold onto, almost as a life raft. I like these kinds of pain. Self-inflicted. Within my control. My desire. My doing. No one else's. The torch of water hitting my skin helps me feel cleaner for a fraction of a second, but you can't wash away the feelings and memories that still live and breathe beneath my flesh and bones.

I wash quickly and finish my shower in record time for two reasons. One, I don't like being in the apartment alone and the sound of the shower muffles any other noise in the building that might be helpful to me. Two, I hate touching my own skin, especially when I'm naked. It brings back too many memories. I touch where I have to only for a moment to wash and clean, nothing more. I shudder as I do, and not in a good way. I used to really enjoy sex, loved it actually. I loved to pleasure myself as a teen. I blossomed early in this department.

But his words float back into my brain; _I heard you liked this, that you like it rough. I heard you've been with a bunch of guys, so why deny me? You fucking whore. You're good for nothing, useless. And I will conquer you. You. Are. Mine. I will break you._

And break me he did.

My breakdown is halted immediately by the sound of the door opening and closing. Fuck. What the fuck is that? Who is there? Jess isn't supposed to be home until tonight, at that thought I hear her voice ring through the apartment.

"Ana! I'm home early! Sorry, I tried to call you last night but you didn't answer! I'm sorry! I hope I didn't startle you. But honey, I'm home!" I hear her come closer to the bathroom door, dropping her bags and coat unceremoniously on the hardwood as she walks, her heels clicking authoritatively on the hardwood.

She knocks tentatively on the shower door as I am finishing wrapping myself in my towel and robe.

"You scared me half to death. I'm armed and dangerous. What are you thinking woman?" I ask her, trying to put some levity in my voice but failing miserably. Jess knows me better than anyone, best friends since the third grade, and even though it took me years to inform her of the horrors from my past, even the one's she lived through with me, she's stuck by my side throughout. She opens the door and peaks in, her hazel eyes accentuated perfectly by her dark eyeliner and dark brown hair. Her hair is normally full and curly but today it's straightened. Christ, must have taken her hours to do herself. It takes even me over an hour to complete, and she's hair-inept when it comes to her own. She comes in and gives me a hug; I inhale her scent, warm and comforting, vanilla and clean cotton.

"I missed you, Ace."

I squeeze her harder, "I missed you too, boo."

We pull apart reluctantly, she's the only person I let hold me that tightly, and I notice her mostly grey dress with a purple color block under the empire waist hem that falls about mid-thigh sticking to her because of the steam in the small room.

"Let's get you somewhere a little less humid, shall we?" I tease.

She flashes me her million-dollar smile and we head to the kitchen for breakfast.

I dig into the bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich she brought me back from the airport while she eats her onion bagel with cream cheese.

"So why'd you end up back so early?" I ask through a mouthful of food sitting on the stool at the breakfast bar.

"Well, my interview got out earlier than I had anticipated so I put my frequent flyer miles to good use. You know I hate being away from my best girl for more than a few hours." She nudges me with her elbow and near spits out her food from laughter, mocking me.

"Shut it," I retort, trying desperately to hide my amusement. But I fail and Jess knows I am laughing inside. I don't know why I even try to play the game with her when I never win. Nevertheless, it's always fun.

We eat the rest of our food talking about Jess's interview for a large mortgage company with offices throughout the US; their home base is in Boston. They've already had her endure five interviews but her last round was yesterday at the epicenter. She's hoping for an upper level management position in the Manhattan office. I hope she is offered the position; we're not far from the office so she can easily get there without her car and the extra cash for rent wouldn't be awful either.

I look at the clock and groan inwardly. Shit, it's 07:35, I need to get dressed and head out. I go into my room and pull on my dark skinny jeans, my black converse, and an oversize light blue boyfriend sweater that's a light airy material. I run my fingers through my still damp hair, pinch my cheeks for some color, and rub some moisturizer into my hands, taking an extra moment to cherish the diamond ring on my right hand, passed down from my great grandmother. I throw on a silver arrow necklace, look one last time in the mirror, grab my purse, hug Jess goodbye, and head out the door.

_Another day. Don't fuck it up. Let's just get through it and get home in one piece._

I lace my keys through my fingers as I walk the six blocks to the clinic. I'm always on high alert when I walk the street by myself. I need to be. I'm constantly streaming all the information around me. Who is that? What are they doing? Do they look threatening? Are they too close? What's that up the street? Who's behind me? My mind has a constant stream of ticker tape scrolling across the bottom of my daily life and when I perceive a threat, all regularly scheduled programming comes to a screeching halt and the BREAKING NEWS emergency broadcast takes over until further notice. Everyone says it will get better, but I haven't seen it yet.

A sharp shiver runs down my spin and I turn around, thinking someone is watching me, but there is no one on the street. I shake it off and continue into the building, down the stairs to the clinic's office. On the days I don't have group, I see Marissa individually for counseling. I pop my head into Kate's office because her door is open and I'm ten minutes early for my appointment.

"Kate, I survived last night without any issues, I thought you'd like to hear it from me instead of from Marissa during your meeting later on," I tell her, plastering a fake smile onto my face from the doorway.

"Ana, I'm pleased to hear that. Jess returns home this evening, correct?"

"Nope. Actually she got home this morning while I was in the shower."

Her eyes widen at my words. Kate knows I feel most vulnerable in the shower and when I am sleeping and as a result I am always armed at these times.

"Did you know she was coming back early?"

I know where this is heading. No Kate, I didn't stab my roommate and best friend. I keep my sarcasm to myself and state simply, "No, she just came back with breakfast." I shrug as if it should be no big deal, but Kate knows better. I need to get out of here before I end up with a session led by both of them. I don't think I could handle that. I sit outside Marissa's office and wait for her to finish her morning paperwork.

She clears her throat as she enters the hallway to retrieve me. She knows I hate spoken words without warning, hence the throat clearing.

"Ana, come on in."

I stand and take in my scrubby appearance compared to hers. She's in black dress pants, black flats, and a tight pink camisole under a pink and blue argyle sweater. Her red hair is in a high ponytail, curls framing her face, and her thick black glasses frame her face and make her blue eyes pop.

I sit in my normal space, on the beanbag in the corner of the room closest to the door. Marissa has all kinds of things for me to fidget with while we speak, which is good because having a sensory input helps me focus and not dissociate, or so I'm told. I've noticed some progress with it, but I'm also one on one in here, not in the group, so who really knows. I launch into my night last night and group yesterday and after forty-five minutes of listening to me drone on and on without so much as a breath between words, she stops me.

"Ana. Do me a favor. Put your hands on your thighs and take four deep breaths with me. You haven't taken a single full breath since you entered my office. Let's do this together."

I hesitate because mindful full belly breathing makes me feel as though my emotions are shifting around inside my chest, like tectonic plates and I feel out of control. Ironic, because apparently this type of breathing is supposed to help you maintain control and find a sense of peace. I'd rather stay in my shallow, upper chest breaths and pass out from lack of oxygen than feel what's lurking beneath my sternum, thank you very much. But I comply anyway, and just like usual, the floodgates open and I'm a crumbling mess.

The rest of the session is spent on my grounding and talking about the smell in my apartment this morning. Cigarettes. Just talking about it I feel nauseas again. We close with our ritual, write down two things you're leaving in session today and two things you'll replace them with.

_ A piece of my anger & A piece of my shame._

I know that leaving all of it is impossible. I hope that the baby steps will someday get me to where I need to be though.

_ Hope. & Knowledge that someday I'll be enough._

I take the second post-it with my handwriting scrawled across it and leave the session. I catch a cab to work fifteen minutes away to Happy Care, a daycare and kennel that I've worked at for a year and a half. I adore that both babies and puppies are in the same building, and I get to play with both multiple times a week. Today is Tuesday so I'm working with the babies, toddlers to be exact. Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays I work with the puppies and on Mondays and Fridays I am with the infants. I wholeheartedly am looking forward to the next eight hours of distraction filled with finger paints, play dough, and baby drool.

At 06:15pm, I walk out of the daycare covered in raspberry yogurt and blue marker, ready to return home to Jess and cook dinner. Taco Tuesday. Impatient and nervous, I set a sprint in my converse and jeans to make it home. It's muggy in the New York air and my purse is bouncing along my hip, but I'm uneasy and in no condition to sit in a cab in traffic. I need to get home and I need to be there fast. As I round the corner to our building Joe greets my outside, tipping his hat and opening the door.

"Hey kiddo, where's the fire?"

"No fire. Taco Tuesday and I haven't eaten since breakfast," I sputter out breathlessly. I wipe my forehead with the back of my sleeve and proceed up the stairs. Jess is inside cutting the onions and I plop onto the chair by the bar. My eyes sting from just being in the room with her, so I decide to take a quick shower and then join to help her finish cooking. Since Jess has been home all day, I quickly check my room and the bathroom before showering but leave the rest of the apartment alone. It always freaks Jess out that I scour every inch before settling in, but she hides it well as she understands my reasoning.

_Yeah, well, let's face it; you don't hide your fucked up intricacies very well Ana._

Maybe you're right, I sigh to myself. Maybe. But someday, hopefully, I won't need all these… precautions. I put the knife from my pillow down on the soap ledge in the shower and begin speeding through my methodical structure for showering. Ten minutes later I am clean and ready for our Taco Tuesday Shenanigans. For a brief moment while I dress, I allow myself to feel a sliver of hope that one day I can feel 'normal', whatever that is. My chest expands at the thought and suddenly I can't wait to hang out with my best friend.

"Alright, Jess. I'm hungry. Taco and beer me please." I say as I wander out of the bathroom, head wrapped in a towel, dressed in my dark red 'give up on life' yoga pants and an oversized white v-neck. I stop dead in my tracks in the hallway when I smell that tinge of cigarettes again. Where the fuck is it coming from? Why didn't Jess respond? I pad quietly down the hall, looking into each doorway as I cross them. Fuck fuck fuck. Why is the front door open?

_Fuck. _

My legs go weak and my stomach roils. This can't be happening.


	3. Ch: 3

AN: The response has been AMAZING. Within two days of changing the characters to As/CG I hit 100+ followers and over 1,500 views! You guys are seriously fantastic! THANK YOU!

That being said, please feel free to give me feedback, review and comment away! I've set up a pinterest account so you can see things for the chapter as well as the characters as I picture them. Pinterest: pinterest dot com / brileefanfic (obviously take out the spaces and change the "dot" to a .) Also you can find me on facebook at BriLee Fanfiction for updates, inspirations, etc.

I have a wedding this weekend, so this will be it for me until early next week! I hope you enjoy it! Laters, babies! xx

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"Ana!... Ana!... What happened? Oh my goodness, what the hell happened?" Jess sounds frantic as she shakes my shoulders and lightly slaps my face.

I slowly open my eyes and feel a pain in my elbow and hip.

"Oh my god, you're okay!" The relief is evident in her voice. How long have I been out? Where was she?

"What… what happened?" I stutter out. "I came out of the shower and you weren't here. Where were you?" The bile burns my throat again but I keep it down as I struggle to sit up on the hardwood floor.

"I got a call from the front desk saying we had a package. I'm sorry, I must not have closed the door all the way." Her eyes fall to the floor and she begins to knot her fingers together in her lap.

"Oh…" I'm trying to stay calm. I know she wouldn't have intentionally left the door open, but she knows how nervous I am about my security. I'm hyperaware and hypervigilant, to a fault. "Can you just check the apartment for me while I gather myself up and get a glass of water?" I ask quietly.

"I certainly can, girlfriend." Her smile is contagious as she stands up and skips down the hall away from me. She's trying to lighten the mood for me and I'm thankful I have someone like her in my life to remind me to chill out when life gets to be too overwhelming. "Are you sure you're okay?" She calls out from the living room.

"Yeah… I think so." I take a quick inventory of my body. My elbow and hip are throbbing, my stomach is in knots, and my throat and eyes are thick with fire. I struggle to my feet and lean on the wall to find my footing before walking slowly down the hall. I'm still grasping for the solid form of the wall on my short walk for stability. I take out a glass and ice then fill it with water from the sink. Jess eyes me with mirth, I know she's against tap water, one of those it's bad for you mindsets… but I can't justify spending extra money on something that I do not need or intend to use. I clasp the glass tightly in both hands, feeling the condensation from the stark contrast in temperature as well as the cold surface from the ice. It's a grounding technique I've learnt during my years in therapy.

I remember the first time I was introduced to it, I was eight years old and had just begun counseling as a result of an investigation from the Office of Children and Family Services (OCFS) and I met with Donna and Matt multiple times a week until I was twelve. They helped me move past the trouble with my Uncle Leroy and two cousins, Mitch and Max. Five years of intensive therapy to help repair their damage. I was able to see justice with them. I was able to heal, eventually. But this new round of an attempt at healing is proving to be a much steeper uphill battle than before. I shake my head to rid the thoughts and focus back on the water in my hands.

Ground. Breathe. You're okay. You're safe. He's not here. No one is here but you and Jess. You're okay. You are safe.

I take a long sip form the glass, trying to follow the cool sensation of the water as far as I can through my system before I can't feel it anymore. It's something that's always fascinated me. The human body really is a marvelous thing.

"Hey, by the way, what was in the package?"

"Oh! I totally forgot to open it with you going all bubble boy outside the bubble on me." Jess says as she rounds back into the kitchen. Leave it to her to pull such an obscure movie reference to say that I passed out from fear in the hallway. "The coast is clear!" She says with a flourish, throwing her hands into the air like a referee would to call a baseball player safe at home plate.

"My mom sent us oranges, sweat tea, and some of their homemade honey!" Jess's parents have always been like my second family. Gene and Kerry allowed me to stay with them whenever shit hit the fan at home, especially through the trials with Leroy, Mitch, and Max. My parents were always more concerned with their social standing and reputations, concerned about their congregation using me as a poster board in church for_ what not to do_. I can still hear the preacher at a youth outing speaking to a group of kids younger than I, "_Be careful kids, if you don't behave the Christian way you'll end up on a dead end road like her. She's wild, untamable, and good for nothing. She can't be saved; we've tried. This is your warning." _Ugh, the thought still boils my blood. I was even more of an enigma to everyone once I hit my teens. I rebelled and no one knew how to handle me or the baggage permanently fixated on my back. I just wanted them to see that I was hurting, to see my pain under the defiance, to hear my cries under the tough exterior. _Can't you see I'm hurting? _I would scream it over and over inside my head, pleading for someone to hear me… But they never did. I pushed my parents away because I thought they didn't care, the problem was I was absolutely right. Gene and Kerry Jones gave me a place to feel safe and understood.

We turn out attention back to eating, drinking, and just hanging out. I ask Jess after a few beers what her plans are for the weekend. She replies saying her and Cam will be hanging out on Friday night. The look on her face prompts me to inquire further but she jumps up and starts clearing the table and doing the dishes.

"Spill." I say raising an eyebrow at her. One, she and Cam don't usually hang out when I'm not there. Two, Jess despises doing dishes and will avoid them at any and all costs. Three, I can read her like a book. She's never been able to lie to me.

"Well," she responds, still not turning to face me, "You know that gym I told you I started going to?"

Where is she going with this? What do I care if she's working out? There's more to this. I decide to oblige her instead of snapping at her to just come out with it already.

She clears her throat and throws the towel down as she finally looks over her shoulder at me. "It's a very specialized kind of facility," I raise an eyebrow at her and tilt my head to the side. "And last weekend I saw Cam there. So now, we're going to start heading there together."

Okay. What's the big deal then?

I wonder why neither one of them told me. It's not a problem to me if they work out at the same gym. I see her grab her phone and call Cam, asking if she'd like to come hang out for some girl time tonight.

Now I'm skeptical. There's more to this story that they're not telling me. I'll just wait until they're both in the room to try to weasel more information out of them. I flip mindlessly through the channels on the television to fill the time until Cam gets here and I can figure out what these two are really up to. Fifteen minutes later Cam knocks on the door and Jess lets her in. Cam has a bag with her and before she sits she gives me a quick hug, knowing my tolerance for physical contact is still at a low threshold with anyone who isn't Jess.

"Alright you two… What the hell is going on? I know Jess didn't give me the whole story. And what's in the bag? You staying the night?" I rattle off my questions until Cam silences me by putting her finger to my lips. I'm effectively silenced.

"Okay, Anastasia, you asked so we're going to tell you. But you need to keep an open mind. And you need to come with us. We'll go tonight so you can have a taste for it. You can just watch; you don't need to do anything you don't want to. But you need to see it before you can judge it." The words fall from Cam's lips as if they'd been pushing against them for days.

"Umm… okay?" I say, not sure if I want to know anymore after that speech.

"We're part of a BDSM club in the city. I'm a Dominant and Jess is a submissive." Her words now are casual, as if she'd been talking about the weather. I shake my head and have to consciously remind my brain to pick my jaw off the floor.

"How? When? Who? What?..." I can barely string together a coherent sentence. I have so many questions. I want to run in the other direction. What the fuck are my best friends into? And how did I not know?

"It was a way for me to regain control over sex and my body after what Cody did." Cam begins to explain it but I cut her off quickly.

"How long? How'd you get introduced into it?" The curiosity is searing, near debilitating successfully extinguishing, if only for a few minutes, the caution I felt a moment ago.

_Remember that curiosity killed the cat, dumbass. You can't handle shit like this. You can't even handle taking a shower unarmed._

I ignore the voice in the back of my mind and return my attention to Cam who says that she was online and came across a forum discussing the lifestyle. She joined because it piqued her interest, met some of the women from the group for coffee a few times, and then decided to view the club as a guest before making her decision. Apparently it took all of one session viewing some woman named Kelly as a Dominant at _Saevum Dominatur_ before she began sitting in on her session to learn to be a Dominant. This happened about almost a year ago, and now her submissive is a man named Liam.

Call me crazy, my Latin is a bit rusty but the name of the club is Dominant Savage? Fuck. You've got to be kidding me, ladies.

"Alright then Jess, your turn. What's your story?"

Jess blushes and says she started attending the club a few months ago after meeting Dean, her Dominant, out at Starbucks one morning. Apparently they hit it off and he gave her an offer she literally couldn't refuse. Funny that she never mentioned a Dean to me. How is it that we live together and I had no idea of the kinky shit she was into? Probably the same way you pretty much lived at her house in high school and never told her about Griffin's attack.

Hell, who am I to judge? I ask both women why they hadn't told me about their lifestyle prior to now and they simultaneously hit me with a don't-be-stupid stare. Okay. Okay. I get it. I'm a shut down miserable bitch who's triggered at the slightest thing, why would you tell me?

But I'm intrigued. I want to know what the allure is. For the first time in years, the mere mention of sex doesn't have me running in the other direction rendering me a mess of quivering panic.

"What's in the bag?" I ask, gesturing at Cam's black gym bag sitting between us on the floor.

She opens the zipper and pushes the bag toward me, "See for yourself. I thought I'd bring over some of my toys giving you a preview of some of what you'd see at the club."

I look in and take out some clothespins, a flogger, a whip, a glove with metal spikes on it, a black collar with studs, and a fur glove. Interesting. She goes into some explanation of what everything is and how she uses it but I tune her out and drown my beer.

"So how would this work then? With me going to observe, as you say?" I ask as I try to, as casually as humanly possible, get myself another beer. I'll need all the liquid courage I can get if I'm seriously considering going to a BDSM club, even if it is with two of people I trust most in the world.

This time Jess steps up to answer, somehow finding her voice, "As members, we have guest passes. You would sign in under Cam, as you'll be observing her tonight. You will dress the part. You will not speak unless spoken to. You will sign a waver saying that anything you see stays within the confines of the building. And I guarantee you'll never turn back, Ace."

I finish my fourth beer in record time and before my mind registers that my mouth has run off without it I hear my voice saying, "Alright, let's do this then."

What? Really?

_Well there you go. You've really stepped in it this time._

What's the worst that could happen?

Cam accompanies me to my room and begins rummaging through my closet and drawers. She pulls out a black baby tee, black skinny jeans, and my one and only pair of Christian Louboutin's which are black sky high heels decorated in glitter and silver spikes. I haven't worn them since I graduated from NYU with my double major in Photography and Imaging & Dance. Rightfully so, in nearly three years I haven't left the apartment except to go grocery shopping, go to work, or go to therapy. THIS is something I never dreamed would happen. I don't know how I'm so brazen all of a sudden, but I'm not hating it. I emerge from my room to find Cam in a black sweetheart neckline dress with cap sleeve that falls mid thigh. The back is nonexistent and the slit in the back shows that her stockings are held up by black lace garter belts. Her shoes are killer heels and her hair, besides her bangs, is pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. I'm at a loss for words. I haven't ever seen this side of Cam before, but even I may fall under her spell tonight. Jess is dressed in a lace white crop bra top and black leather pants that appear to be painted onto her skin. She has borrowed a pair of my college heels that are black with white lace. She also has a thin strip of leather around her neck with white lace above and below it. The front of the collar, as I recall Cam calling it earlier, has a small ring on it. That's strange, I think quietly, but decide that tonight I will keep quiet and observe. If I ask too many questions, I'll psych myself out and not go.

"Think of tonight as one of those acting assignments from NYU, you can be someone else… or better yet a photography assignment. You are there only to observe and witness. Nothing else. There is no pressure to participate. No pressure, Ace, you hear me?" Jess's voice breaks through my thoughts.

"Yeah, boo, I've got it."

And with that we leave the apartment, destination _Saevum Dominatur_.

In the cab, they inform me that as a visitor I'll have a yellow bracelet so the member's can recognize me as such. Again, it is reinforced that I should not speak unless spoken to. Silent witness. Silent witness.

"I'll take care of you, Ana. Don't worry. You'll be safe with me." Cam whispers as she clasps my hand and gives me a reassuring squeeze.

By the time the cab pulls up outside the alley, my stomach is tied in knots. I cannot believe I'm about to do this. I'm terrified… and really, very intrigued. I quickly throw my hair into a loose ponytail and follow silently behind Cam and Jess down the alley until I see the sign above a metal door bearing the Latin translation of its name. Dominant Savage… What a name to call the place. Seriously. If I weren't here with them, I would have never set foot within a city block of here.

We enter into a small lobby area, equipped with a fierce looking blonde in a purple lace corset behind the long sleek counter. Cam and Jess scan their key passes and Cam asks for her guest pass and accompanying paperwork. I set to work signing a non-disclosure agreement, confidentiality, and code of conduct form before bearing my yellow bracelet through the steel plated double doors into a loud dark space.

The club is all purples, blacks, and grays. The walls are painted a dark grey color and any floor surface or piece of furniture including the couches, tables, and the bar are black. The room has pops of purple throughout, a deep rich purple, shown in some lighting, a large curtains that hang throughout the perimeters of the space. The room is shaped in a circle and once I finish taking in the basic architecture, my mind settles on the activities happening throughout. The music is a hard-hitting base that reverberates throughout my entire body, so much that my heart has set beat in time with it. There are no hard edges in this room at all… everything is curved. The bar is set up in a circle, the sofas that are scattered throughout the upper tier where we are placed are set in a U shape and everything is focused upon the lower level in the center of the room. As we get closer I see four large X shaped wooden monstrosities arranged in a circle toward one another. Mental note: find out what those things are. There are men and women strapped onto the crosses in various states of undress being tended to by one or more partners. I blush but cannot tear my eyes away from the scene in front of me. Cam grasps my elbow gently and nods her head toward the bar. I ask for a water, not sure that any more liquid courage would be beneficial to me, or a hindrance.

I thank the bartender, a large bald man with brilliant green eyes and full sleeve tattoos on each arm, and turn to find a man about five inches taller than Jess, dressed in all black approaching Jess. He's dressed in dark wash jeans, boots whose toes are plated in shinny grey steel, and a tight black cotton shirt that clings to every ripple of muscle underneath. He has bright green eyes that perfectly match his hair and caramel skin that I would want to lick off an apple. I shift my weight and apply pressure between my thighs. Who would have thought when I started to feel a pulse in my veins again, it would be in a place like this? Jess hangs her head as he approaches.

"Jessica, are you ready to play? You may answer me." He commands her.

"Yes, Sir." She answers, nodding, but never looking up to meet his gaze.

"Very good. Hello Cam." He says giving her a small smile then takes Jess's hand in his and leads her through the crowd that's begun to form behind a purple curtain.

I scan around the room again and I see a group of women and a few men, wearing white tops, serving their Dominants; some are providing massages, others serving them drinks, and a few just kneeling with their heads down next to their Dom's feet… waiting. I see one woman walk by with her hands bound behind her and attached to the collar around her neck is a chain pulled by her Dom. I'd never want to be on a fucking leash. I am not a dog. There is a line. That just feels degrading.

A young blonde man approaches us, head down, and asks if his Mistress would like to play this evening.

Cam reaches out and lifts his chin to meet his gaze, "Liam, I would very much like to play tonight. This is my friend, Ana, who will be joining us this evening; you agreed the last time we met. Are you still okay with her observing us?" His eyes are a light blue and his face is perfectly sculpted. He looks younger than I had imagined, but he can't be much younger than I.

Liam does not miss a beat before replying, "Yes, Mistress."

Cam drops her hand from his chin and tells us both to follow her through the club, past the purple curtains, and into a hallway lined with at least fifteen doors on each side. We enter the eighth door on the right.

_Alright... Here goes nothing, Ace. No turning back now. Just breathe and observe._

* * *

Review please? :)


	4. Ch: 4

Cam opens the door and gestures for us to enter first. I watch Liam undress down to black boxer briefs that hug him in all the right places and kneel down to the left of the door against the wall; his knees spread far apart, elbows on his thighs, hands on his knees and his head down. Geez, is he even breathing? Cam softly tells me to sit in the leather chair on the opposite side of the room, to remain quiet, but to use the word "Red" if I ever feel overwhelmed or triggered, which will signal her to stop whatever she happens to be doing and tend to me. Apparently, I am her responsibility in this room even though I am not her submissive. It's comforting to know that I will be safe and cared for, but it also unnerving to think I'm adding another responsibility onto her plate.

_What the hell are you talking about? She ordered you to come down here. And you're worried about putting more onto her plate? Ace, cut the shit. Let's see what this is all about. _

For once, I have to agree with the usually snide condescending bitch that resides in my brain. If it worked for Cam, maybe something like this can help me regain control… Maybe.

I return my focus back to the room and for the first time take in its contents. There is a wrought iron black bed against the wall opposite the door; one of those crosses from the main room across from me, and a chair that vaguely reminds me of an electric chair… minus the voltage of course… I hope. Ugh, suddenly I'm queasy. I actively remind myself that Cam is a loving person and would never intentionally cause someone else any serious harm. This is all consensual. Red. That's the safeword as she called it… Red. Cam has entered into a small closet next to the door and is gathering a few items to complement those in her bag. I can't see many of them but I recognize a gag ball, a blindfold, and a silver object that looks like a large pacifier, which I identify as a butt plug. She goes into her bag for a cock ring, the clothespins, and her whip. She puts them down on the table beside the bed and stands in front of Liam.

She is beautiful like this. Don't get me wrong, Cam is beautiful all the time, but I can feel the dominant aura radiating off of her. She is in command. She is in control. And I want to experience that. I feel a shiver run down my spine at the thought of beginning this practice and I haven't even seen it demonstrated yet.

"Liam, I want you to stand, keeping your hands behind your back and turn away to face the wall."

Liam rises gracefully from the position he'd been holding for close to ten minutes now. How the hell did he do that without making it look difficult? I imagine my legs and back would have been fifty kinds of stiff. I watch in awe as Cam asks for his safewords, "Yellow and Red, Mistress."

"Very good. Later tonight we'll use a gag, but for now, I want you to rely on all senses besides your sight." She leans in close to his ear and whispers just barely loud enough for me to hear her, "I want you to taste me, feel me, smell me, and hear me, but you will have no sight. Are you ready, Liam?"

"Yes, Mistress."

A small spark is ignited in the depths of my abdomen at her words. I can only see their backs, but Liam has a slight sheen of sweat across his shoulders and Cam's breathing has changed slightly, it's shallower and quicker than before. She takes a deep breath and I mirror her, trying to control my breathing and imagine adhering to the leather on the sofa, becoming one with it. I hadn't realized I had been holding my breath much of the evening.

Cam leads a blindfolded Liam to the "electric chair" and cuffs his wrists to the arms so he is bent at the waist facing the chair's back. How odd. Why wouldn't she have him sit in it? I watch motionless as Cam begins her sensual torture.

She drags her bare hands across every inch of his skin. Occasionally brushing her nails down the length of his back, leaving faint red lines in their wake. She alternates in this way for a long time before reaching around to gently stroke his full erection through his briefs. Normally, I'm not attracted to the bleached blonde surfer type, but the way Liam looks right now has the knots in my stomach tumbling over one another. I am so turned on right now, and I cannot believe that a BDSM club is the first place where I'm experiencing this in ten years since Griffin's assault on me. _No. I will not think about him or that here. Not now. I am in control here. I am going to learn to be in control here. This is my first step. Witnessing. Learning. Observing. I can do this. _Cam slowly peels his boxers away from his body and tosses them off toward the door. She kneels next to his left leg and reaches around to stroke his shaft again, faster and more fervently this time. I watch his breathing even out then spike as he feels the cock ring slide down his length. As Cam switches it on, his abdomen and thighs flex, showing off his perfectly sculptured body. She leans in a quickly flicks the tip of her tongue over his head… one, two, three, four, five times before blowing gently on it and standing back to just gaze upon him.

Cam crosses the room and returns with the clothespins and whip in hand. I'm not sure what she is going to do with those, but this ache between my thighs wants to find out more than anything. I watch intently as she brushes her hands down his back again. She lays small pinches across his skin. Is she going to put those clothespins on him? I feel a fission of apprehension and excitement rush my veins. She attaches ten clothespins across his back, arms, and legs, occasionally brushing her hand across the head of his cock to stimulate him further. Liam takes the pain in stride, breathing into each pinch as it comes. I don't know how he does it; I'd want to run for the fucking hills. Cam stands back and holds the whip out in front of her, then crashes it down on the floor, the sound reverberating off the cold concrete walls. The noise rings in my ears and I can hear the blood in my ears pumping more loudly. I focus on what is happening in front of me instead of allowing the panic to take over.

_I am safe._

_ I am safe._

_ I am in no danger._

_ I am safe._

_ I am safe._

I watch in fascination as Cam, with complete precision, brings the whip down onto each clothespin, knocking it off Liam's body. Each time he stifles a moan but remains stone still. I need to remember to ask Cam why she's choosing these specific things to do to him. Her smile tells me that she is more than pleased with how he has been thus far in their session. She rewards him by again stroking his erection then wrapping her mouth around him. How she has managed to place herself between the chair and his body I have no idea… When his thigh muscles begin to stiffen even more and the sweat forms on his brow she stops and moves out from beneath him. Even I want him to find a release, Cam! Give it to him!

She reaches for the gag and the plug, still leaving the cock ring in place, set on low. She orders him to open his mouth and suck on the plug.

"Where are we, Lee?" She whispers into his ear, gently biting on the edge of his lobe.

"Green, Mistress." His voice is horse and raspier than previously in the night. My clit throbs in response. Holy fuck. Really?

"I'm going to gag you now. Remember, I can read your body, but if you need me to stop for any reason, stomp your right foot twice. Your feet will not be bound."

"Yes, Mistress."

She delicately clasps the gag in place around the back of his head. This is strangely the first thing I've seen in this room that sets me on edge. The sound of the whip crashing against the floor had earlier, but sound is forever a trigger for me. Sight rarely takes me into panic. I close my eyes tightly and concentrate on the presence of Cam in the room. She will take care of me. I know she will. I steady my breathing and open my eyes to Cam slowly pushing the plug into Liam. My own body clenches in response. I keep my eyes trained below his waist to avoid the visual of the gag in his mouth. The head of his erection has begun to take on a deep red color as Cam caresses and sucks. Intermittently, she will reach around and circle the plug, twisting, pushing and pulling. Liam moans into the gag and Cam tells him to hold off until she gives him permission to come. She brings him to the brink three times before increasing the level of the cock ring to high and allowing him release.

"Now, Lee."

His body shudders and Cam takes all of him into her mouth and pulls the plug from his body. He whimpers into the gag and his chest heaves with quick and shallow breaths. My own panties are soaked through and I'm sure I'll need to release after I arrive back at home. This is completely unreal.

Cam gently removes all the apparatuses from Liam and leads him over to the bed. She rubs some cream on him, massaging it into his skin gently. For the first time since we spoke earlier about the safe words, she looks in my direction and smiles softly. I return her smile and watch in awe, as she takes complete care of her submissive. I always thought it was a crock of shit when people said the submissive held all of the power and that the relationship was about trust and care… but watching Cam right now, grounds those statements. It isn't about pain. It's about a mutual exchange of power, respect, and trust. My chest warms at the realization and I'm brought back to the room as Cam instructs Liam to dress to return to his sub position by the door. His eyes appear glazed over and there are faint red lines across his back from her nails and the pins. Cam gathers the toys and places the ones from the club into a bin by the door and returns her own into her bag.

She gestures to me to follow her and I comply willingly, once I remember how to engage my legs to walk again. I move across the room and stop before her. She reaches out her hand, grabbing mine, and gently squeezes it as if to say "good job" and "thank you." I smile weakly, reeling from the events of the night. She leans down and whispers something in Liam's ear that I cannot hear. With that we depart from the room, leaving him kneeling, fully clothed, by the door.

When we push past the heavy purple curtain into the main room, I'm surprised to see many people gathered in the center space around a woman strapped into a contraption that reminds me of the time I visited Six Gun City as a child. It looks like outlaw stocks, fastening the head and wrists into place through holes in the wood. Her ass is on display for all to see as the Dominant, dressed in all black, works diligently on flogging her. I feel like more of a voyeur in this moment than I had in the room with Liam and Cam, and quickly turn my head away from her moans of pleasure and torment.

"Hey Ace, how are you feeling?" I hear Jess' soft voice in my ear and my knees buckle out from under me. My body feels reminiscent of my earlier episode of passing out at the sight of the door being open in the apartment, weak and out of my control, but the quality of my body's reaction feels different than earlier. I feel more in control, more at ease, and more comfortable, just completely exhausted. She catches me before I fall too far and nods to Cam. I guess my system has had enough for the night. They take each of my hands, guiding me to gather our things and we depart the building.

I don't speak the entire way back to the apartment. I just stare blankly at my studded Louboutins attempting to process all that I've seen, heard, and experienced tonight. I sense that Jess and Cam are eager to speak with me about it, but they have the decency to help me safely into the apartment, do the room to room check for me, and fix me with a beer before prying.

"So..?" Cam breathes.

"It was…" My words are failing me. "Not what I expected?" I say, in more of a question than a statement.

They give me a few minutes to wrangle my thoughts and sip on my beer before shifting nervously in their seats on the couch and chair across from me. I can't take the pressure and stand to pace around the apartment.

"It was hot… a serious turn on. I haven't experienced desire in any form since I was fifteen, and you just hit me with a ton of bricks in all of four hours tonight. I mean really, Cam, you have this aura about you when you're in role that is intoxicating. Seeing you with Liam made me want that control. I wanted, for the first time, to fight back for control over my body and my sexuality. That has never happened. I found myself not wanting to be a victim anymore. Not that I ever consciously wanted to be a victim, but I never thought I deserved more than misery. I feel like because of what they all did to me, I am worthless, useless, broken, and disgusting. I constantly feel that I am at fault… that I am what is wrong in the equation. I feel like I am irredeemable. But watching you, I had hope, for the first time ever, that those feelings wouldn't be my forever. How can this be? Really? I never thought this would be my thought process. Had you guys told me this would happen last week, hell even earlier today, I would have told you to get the fuck out. And now… Christ, I was so turned on, so excited; I want that. I want this. How can I do this? Can you teach me? Teach me everything. I want to be a Dominant. I need this."

Cam smiles, places her index finger over my lips, and models a deep breath for me. I mirror her action and knot my fingers in my lap.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. You can continue to observe Liam and I. He has agreed to have you begin your training with us. Lee is an experienced submissive and will help guide you through the process as well as I. You will join us for two of our four sessions per week to start. It's nice to see some life in you for once, Ana."

I look over at Jess and her face is split into a grin.

"What's that face for?" I ask, throwing a pillow in her direction from the couch.

"I'm incredibly happy to hear you speak of feeling a small sense of hope. I've never heard you say those words before. Ever. I can't wait to see if, no… when, this works for you!" She starts bouncing in her chair and suddenly her face is marred by a scowl, "I hope we can show all those therapists that you don't need to psychoanalyze the shit out of your past… sometimes it's action that does the trick!" I giggle at her words but secretly I hope she's right. I'm so tired of feeling broken.

Suddenly, I'm dead tired and want nothing more than to collapse onto my bed. I bid the girls goodnight and slowly make my way to my bedroom. I recheck the room and secure my knife before taking a Benadryl and peeling off the clothing from the night. I stop and look in my full-length mirror, amazed that I don't look any different when my body feels both exhausted and exhilarated at once. I massage my scalp and glory in the feeling of my hair brushing across my naked shoulders and back. I rub my hands down my neck to my breasts and gently roll my nipples in my fingers. _You're a dirty slut, Ana, a dirty fucking slut. What do you think you're doing here? You aren't worthy of pleasure. _I clear my mind of Griffin's insidious voice and focus on nothing but the sensations rolling over my skin, ravaging my system. Before I know it, my right hand has traveled into the waist of my still soaked panties and I lightly circle my clit. Holy hell. This feels incredible. I push past my folds and spread the wetness around and gasp when my body begins to tighten and quicken. I pinch my nipple harder and place more pressure onto that bundle of nerves as I come undone. I stumble over my bed and fall onto the mattress, not even bothering to get dressed, and drift into a deep and for once restful sleep.

I awake remembering the various scenarios that played through my mind in my dreams. My working over a dark haired, dark skinned, blue-eyed man with a riding crop, watching his skin pink beneath each flick. Me blindfolding and massaging another man who is chained to that wrought iron four-poster with a fur glove, relishing in the feel of his muscles beneath my hands. The last scenario left room for pause; it was I, shackled to that cross and at the mercy of a man with a delicious stubble along his strong, chiseled jaw and deep, piercing grey eyes. I shake off the image. No. I will not be a submissive. This is for me to gain control over my body, over my sexuality, over a man. I will never again allow someone to have control over me.

_Suit yourself. I want to be chained up. That shit was hot with Liam last night. There is a beauty in his submission. I want that._

_Shut up woman. What do you know, anyway?_ I throw back. Annoyed that she would even begin to go there. This is about me finding my strength, not giving up my power to a man.

I push the thoughts out of my mind and set to work researching the BDSM lifestyle, gathering any and all information I can before I need to get ready for work. I still cannot believe I managed to touch myself last night. Seriously, I haven't done that in well over ten years, and I can't imagine not being able to do it again. But when I step into the shower, I fall into my same routine of near scrubbing off three layers of skin of rid the grime of shame and guilt from my body. Who am I kidding? I can't be responsible for someone else's well being, I can barely manage to hold myself together throughout each day.

I lose myself in work, focusing solely on each puppy and their needs. Feed, play, laugh, rinse, repeat. I've smiled so much today that my cheeks are sore and my co-workers must be wondering if I've shown up high. That's how out of character this is for me… I have to give this a try.

_What's the worst that could happen?_

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Review or PM to give me your thoughts and comments!


	5. Ch: 5

AN: Thank you to my wonderful Beta(s) for their help and assistance with this story! Wren and Toni- You are fantastic!

People have been asking when you'll see Christian... he's coming. I think next chapter will be his POV but you get a glimpse of him here. ;)

If you read it, please review it :) It helps me writing process and helps to inspire me if I feel my readers are enjoying it._ A special thank you to my facebook girls for their extra pushes- SmileRose, Wattle, PrincessRolon, Lynn, Mel, and Julie!_

Check out my facebook or my pinterest pages for inspirations and corresponding pictures, like the one's Ana takes at the end of the chapter!

Enough out of me- enjoy.

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It's been three days since the night spent at _Saevum Dominatur_ and I've not spoken of it again since Tuesday. My mind has been on a constant loop replaying the events of that night, overanalyzing my thoughts and reactions, and actively trying to convince myself that I have zero interest in submitting to anyone, but my dreams tell a different story. I have vowed to become a Dominant and use the role to regain control over my life, my body, and my sexuality. I have been fighting with the urge to speak of this decision in my individual therapy this morning with Marissa or not. I'm afraid she won't understand, that she'll judge me, or that she'll try to talk me out of attempting this. I'm afraid I'm not cut out for the role, that I'm not strong enough, and I would hate to have someone standing on the sidelines mouthing_, _"I told you so."with a smug look on their faces. I just couldn't take that right now. But when I arrive at the Thrive building I know with all certainty that I will share with her the most recent developments in my life, even though I chose not to share them in the group session last night. Marissa has never been judgmental and has always been supportive and understanding of my reasoning for whatever decisions I am making. Yes, it will be good to tease this out with her. This is the right choice.

I realize after a few minutes that I've been standing on the street looking at the sign for Thrive without moving or even blinking. I'm not sure how long I've been out here, but it's time I head inside. I roll the words from the sign around in my mind, reminding myself of the mission statement of this organization. Move/THRIVE Inc.: Move Toward Hope Resilience Inspiration Vitality and Empowerment, Inc. Their goal is to help survivors of all different types of abuse come to a place of self-acceptance, self-worth, and the ability to lead a happy, healthy lifestyle. Up until now, I've never even thought of a happy and healthy lifestyle being an option for me. I've spent my entire life as a victim. I was a victim to family members who couldn't keep their hands or dicks to themselves. I was a victim to teenage boys who took advantage of me when I was confused and trying to figure out which way was up. I was a victim to Griffin, a friend who told me I could trust him, told me he loved me, before invading my space and my body, robbing me of any sense of self that I had managed to recover or foster throughout the years. I managed to repress the experience with Griffin until was 22 when he came back in my life unannounced.

That was when shit hit the fan.

I couldn't handle it when all the emotions and realities came flooding back into my system. I tried to end everything. I saw no future, no worth, no reason for living. My life had no meaning. I was a useless and broken woman who wasn't worth the price of the soap I used to scrub my sins and shame clean every morning. I was used and no one would ever be able to love me. I spent time in the hospital, three weeks to be exact, before I was declared, "No longer a threat to my personal safety". Funny since I still feel the complete opposite no matter how much money I spend on therapy. I spent every night drunk or drugged to sleep. I scrub myself raw in every shower and the thought of a man being anywhere near me scares the ever living shit out of me, still. I never thought I'd be able to do the things I did on Tuesday night after Griffin raping me at fifteen; to witness their intimacy, to feel desire, to pleasure myself, to dream of a man and sex and Domination and submission… No those are things I never thought would happen again. But here I am.

I stand at the threshold of Marissa's office and take a deep breath before entering. She's sitting with her back to the window in a beige wingback chair. I assume my normal spot, next to the door, on the beanbag chair. I always loved these things as a kid. I'd unzip it and push my hand inside to see how many of the Styrofoam beans would cling onto my arm when I removed it. My relationships with men are like that but without the joy, I put my arm in knowing what to expect but never anticipating how many of those little pieces would come away with me, clinging onto my edges, making it impossible for me to move freely. The panic stays with me now always adhering to my body, even when I find the energy to attempt to brush those millions of beads off my pale skin they still find ways to stick. I pick up a multicolored fidget tool that looks like a worm with joints in it, kinked at different spots allowing me to move multiple portions of it at once. I twist and twirl it around in my hand and ask Marissa how her morning has been in an attempt to divert the attention from me. I know it's futile, but it's worth a shot.

"It's been fine, how about yours?"

"I've been doing a lot of thinking," I say truthfully. Her eyebrows raise and she waits for me to continue.

"I've been thinking about whether or not I want to share some of the latest developments in my life with you. I fear you'll judge me and I don't think I can handle that right now." My fingers are no longer toying with the fidget tool but are effectively knotted in my lap. I stare down at them and watch as my fingertips turn a deep pink color from lack of blood supply.

"Ana, have you ever felt judged in this room before by me?"

"No," I say because I know it's true.

"I don't plan on starting that trend now. So if you'd like to tell me, you're free to do that in a place of understanding, if not, I also understand that and will be here when and if you ever decide to share this with me."

That was all I needed to hear to launch into the story of Tuesday night. I leave out Cam's name because I don't know how she feels about this being semi-public knowledge. I'm reminded of when my aunt tried for a period of time to be part of Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) and I struggled to define when it was and was not appropriate to disclose this information or discuss it. I will not betray her in that way, which means we need to discuss how to proceed from here. Can I mention her or no? I just need to know.

"You're hoping to gain a sense of control through training to become a Dominant in a BDSM relationship… control over what exactly?"

"Control over me, over my life, over my vagina, over my sexual desires, over my body, my relationships, my panic, everything. I just want to feel an ounce of control again. I feel like I've been living my life constantly in fear of who is behind every corner, who will touch me next, who will betray my trust, who will violate me, and how I'll lose myself next… I hope this will help, even if it's in some miniscule way. They always say something's gotta give right? Well I'm hoping that something's gotta work right now."

She hears me out and encourages me to journal about the experience and chronicle the journey for myself. I agree and for our close of the session ritual I decide to leave behind pieces of my _"shame and fear"_ and take _"confidence and self-esteem"_. She asks me to join her in a visualization exercise to ground these ideas before departing the session, I breathe out the color brown for shame and fear and breathe in a deep purple for confidence and self-esteem. I'm shocked that the first color that came to mind for those qualities I wanted more of happened to be the exact color of the curtains at the club. I'll take that as a good sign. My heart flourishes with the feeling of empowerment in that moment. I smile as I gather my things and leave the building.

I walk into the daycare at 9:50am and head into the infant room for a day full of changing diapers, baby drool, and the most cleansing laughter there is on the planet. I rarely find noises that soothe me, but the sound waves of a baby laughing is the most calming noise that have ever hit my eardrums. They bring me down from the verge of panic attacks daily. When I'm here, at work, it's one of the few times I'm actually able to focus solely on the task in front of me, very few things filter through to overwhelm and distract me. These children are my responsibility, they are under my care, and I hope I will have the same sense of being when in the role of a Dominant. It has to trickle over. It just has to…

My day passes in a blur and come 6:45pm, I'm finally home. Jess is in the kitchen when I arrive, dressed in her white oversized bathrobe, eating a sandwich.

"I made you a turkey sub, Ace. Eat up. You have a big night tonight," she says with a wicked gleam in her eye. I look at her confused for a moment before she continues; "Your training begins tonight at the club with Cam. I told you we had plans to go to the club on Friday when we started to talk to you about this on Tuesday night." She seems frustrated with me, but I won't let it get to me. How was I supposed to remember that minute detail in the blur of Tuesday night when we haven't spoken of it again since?

I shower and get dressed into the clothing Jess has laid out on my bed. She's picked a pair of black plain heels to be accompanied by a tight pair of dark wash skinny jeans and a shirt she gave me as a gift last year but I have never worn. I shake my head at her audacity but decide to humor her. The top is a black sleeveless mix of lace, sheer netting, and sequins. The sequins make up the outside of the top, running from the shoulders down to my waist, while the netting and lace intermingle to comprise the entire sheer middle of the top in front. The back in completely made of the sheer material which makes wearing a bra impossible, much to my frustration. I put on a small amount of makeup, just enough to pop my blue eyes and wrap my long brown hair into a low side anchored ponytail falling over my left shoulder. I exit my room and find Jess and Cam in the living room. Cam looks as if her black jeans and tee were painted onto her. Jess is bouncing around in a light pink babydoll dress made of lace and a lace and pearl collar to match.

We enter the club and Cam immediately finds Liam. We say our goodbyes to Jess and follow Cam to the same room from Tuesday night. Both Cam and I sit on the couch as Liam kneels by her side. She offers Liam permission to speak freely, but with respect as we discuss limits for this arrangement.

"The agreement that I have with Lee consists of hard limits against any acts with minors, needle or electric play, as well as any acts that involve urination or defecation or the products of either one."

I share that I want nothing part of any play involving animals or animal suits, masks of any kind, as well as those specified already in our discussion. We all agree on the rules set forth. As Liam prepares by stripping down to his blue boxer briefs and kneeling at the door, I tell Cam that I am also not comfortable with having any sexual contact with Liam with my body any time soon. I cannot imagine him touching me in any way, but that doesn't mean I can't play, right?

Cam proceeds saying she'll direct the scene tonight but will allow me to take the reigns at times, showing me how to use the different… tools? I'm not sure what to call them. Note to self: figure that shit out before I get waist deep in this wading pool. We go through the scene utilizing a flogger and an instrument that reminds me of a large lollipop, she referred to it as a wand, and I jumped slightly when she turned on the vibrate feature. The flogger is a much better fit for me. I love the feel of the soft suede as it runs across my hands. It has a red and black spiral pattern along the handle and the tendrils are all red. I love the weight of the handle in my hands and the way Lee moved into each stinging bite by my hand. I had not expected to feel this rush from just a few moments. I check repeatedly for his safe word level.

"Green, Mistress Ana. Green."

Liam spoke freely, at the encouragement and permission of Cam, enabling me to learn more about his headspace. He stated that he would appreciate my confidence more than my hesitation. He assured me that he would safeword if he needed to. His ease and comfort made the transition easier for me to grasp. I can't wait to learn more throughout my training and then begin my role with more autonomy. By the close of the scene I am confident and in control. I feel free and I feel cherished. That was not something I thought I would feel in this relationship. I expected control, confidence, regulation, responsibility, and possibly some shame if it wasn't what I had thought, but instead I felt cherished. I could feel Liam's gratitude and that caused a warm flush to spread throughout my chest.

Entering the main space behind Cam after the close of our session I felt a wave of exhaustion come over me. I looked for Jess in the crowd to say my goodbyes and make my exit. I couldn't see much as a result of the club transforming on Friday and Saturday nights after 11 to a dance club and bar out front while the individual rooms still nestled behind the curtains in the back remain open for scenes. There were bodies clad in dark and light colors grinding against one another, some donning their clamps and collars in various states of undress. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and sex, as it hit my senses it simultaneously excited my system and churned my stomach.

I was drawn to the sole scene being played out on one of the walls at the far side of the main room. The man dressed in tight blue jeans and an equally tight black button down had his submissive chained to the wall in only her white lace thong. He was covering her legs, stomach, ass, and breasts with hard flicks of the crop in his hand. She had a gag in her mouth that looked to be attached to the silver chain strung between her nipples. Each time she arched her back you could see her nipples pull upward, causing her to writhe even more. I'm shocked she was still standing, that appeared to be an overload of sensation that I'm not sure I could handle. He stops the persistent blows from the crop in his hand and pauses in front of her, seemingly idolizing the red welts that have risen to the surface of her skin. My stomach somersaults as I take him in; his broad shoulders, his well sculpted arms, his torso that slants into a delicious V, his tight ass, and long legs. This man is sex on legs. He exudes power and control. I feel a shiver run down my spine when he moves around to the side of his submissive and his gaze flits in my direction. He has stunning grey eyes; I can clearly make them out despite the crowd and lack of lighting. They're almost incandescent. It's surreal. I know it's irrational but I feel like he is looking directly at me, into my soul, seeing all that I am and all that I am not. I break my gaze away and when I chance a look up at him again he is running his hand through his curly hair and turning back in her direction. His jaw line is full, strong, and chiseled with a dusting of facial hair as if he hasn't shaved since yesterday. His hair hangs over his forehead in a thick unruly copper mass. My fingers itch to be the one's running through it. I want to glory in the aura he exudes.

A nudge from my side brings me back to reality; I turn to see Jess and Cam. My heartbeat is racing. My breath is shallow. The sound of the base is pounding through my system.

I need to get the hell out of here. That feeling of desire for this lifestyle, for my own sense of empowerment, and for that man at the edge of the room burns the pit of my stomach and a frisson of excitement rushes through me at the realization that I can feel this way.

This is my answer.

This is how I will take back my power.

I repeat my actions from Tuesday night, a silent ride back home, a thorough search of the apartment, a discussion about tonight's events with the girls, and a session of pleasure to take away the desire that has nestled into my abdomen. I find my underwear are drenched when I undress and my mind immediately drifts to those eyes that I felt burrowing into me. I haven't been this turned on, ever. I think at the slightest touch I will combust. It takes three small strokes of my sex before I am shuddering. Well now. I walk to my desk and playfully hit the 'easy' button. 'That was easy' rings out through the room mixing with my soft laughter.

I take a warm shower and for the first time in years do not feel the need to scrub my skin raw. I delight in the sensation of the water washing over me, the hot steam caressing my body, and massage the wash into my scalp and skin. I inhale deeply and for the first time since I can remember, I relax, truly relax. I feel safe. My mind begins to play over all the ways that this could go wrong, the ways this feeling will be stripped from my grasp, but I shake the thoughts away. I just want one night of peace before the reality comes back to crush me… _Just one night of peace._

* * *

Four weeks have passed since the night I began my training and got lost in the steel grey eyes of the mystery Dom. His body and eyes literally haunt my every waking and sleeping hour. It distresses me slightly that I am often in the role of submissive in these dreams, but I have been journaling and processing them eagerly. I'm thankful for the distraction from my standard night terrors of Griffin or my deadbeat family. Don't get me wrong; I'm still high-strung, unable to be touched by a man, and plagued by night terrors but bit-by-bit my training and dreams of him are bringing me a sense of control. I'm finally starting to feel passionate again. I'm eager to share these new developments with Marissa who has been out of the office the past three weeks due to a family emergency. While I've been seeing Kate in her place, I haven't felt compelled to share these details with her in session, there is still plenty of grist for the mill without me diving into my newfound lifestyle.

I've left the apartment this morning with the intention of getting back to me. My mind wanders back to the group session last night when I disclosed how sick I am of forever looking over my shoulder and being the victim. I vowed to get back to the woman I always knew I could be, somehow. I crave the release I used to feel at the end of a great dance performance, when I finished a painting, or when I managed to capture the spirit and vitality of a scene in a photograph. I board the subway, turn on my iPod, and allow shuffle to pick the songs for me. Letting the sounds of Regina Spektor flood my ears I listen intently as her haunting voice fills the headphones. _No one laughs at God on the day they realize that the last sight they'll ever see is a pair of hateful eyes. No one's laughing at God when they're saying their goodbyes_. My heart stops momentarily as Griffin's face appears in my mind. His cold empty eyes staring back at me, so full of rage and hate. I can feel his breath on my neck, hear myself begging for mercy, "Please Griffin, stop. Please. Please. Don't do this. Let me go. Please. Stop. Just stop." I can hear his growl of laughter at my ear, delighting in my pain and terror as scream after scream rips through my throat.

The train comes to a stop and I am jostled by the passenger beside me departing the car bringing me back from the edge of my panic. The device in my hands changes songs and the piano chords of Moonlight Sonata immediately calm my system. Thank you Universe for taking me off the ledge. I am transported back to the last performance I did before life, as I had become accustomed to living in ignorant bliss, was over. It was a solo, on a dark stage; I was dressed in a plain white dress with tattered and torn edges. I was instructed to feel the music, the sorrow, the pain, and the undying love. I took the opportunity to use this piece as therapy. The choreographer, Patrick, had put the piece together as an ode to movement itself, to its healing power. He wanted to bring awareness to how therapeutic and emotional movement could be, truly he had no idea how therapeutic this piece had become for me. I left it all on the stage that night. I felt free and clean, like a white sheet blowing in the wind on a breezy beach day surrounded by sunshine, wild flowers, and the greenest of grass. I was clean. I was whole. That piece was my catharsis.

I set the song on repeat and exited the subway, strolling toward Central Park with a newfound purpose in my step. I brought myself back from the edge of panic today, on a crowded subway car. I was in control. My heart feels lighter at the realization and I feel a renewed sense of confidence surrounding me. On my walk I pass a crowd of young dancers free styling and improvising in front of a brick wall covered in bright graffiti. There is one boy who captivates me as he moves, a young black man with a lean body and black dance shorts. His feet are bare and his lines are exquisite. I take out my camera and begin to click away, attempting to capture this feeling for myself with each contraction of the shudder. With the sounds of Beethoven still assaulting my auditory system, I can see an entire piece play out in front of my eyes. This boy moves with such synchronicity to the music, it astounds me that I am the only one who can actually hear it. I stand placed behind my camera, watching in awe for what feels like hours before the dancers finish and begin to pack up their things and leave. The boy makes eye contact with me, smiles, and walks away after gathering his things. I finally make my way toward the park.

I sit for a while just contemplating the growth I've felt in myself over the last few weeks. I never thought it would be possible for me to feel strong and, quite honestly, alive. For a warm Sunday afternoon the park is empty, but then again you can feel the rain hanging in the air. I almost wish for the clouds to let go, to wash the remainder of my shame away from me, to cleanse what's left of my sordid past. As I make my way back out of the park, the clouds open and many of the NYC dwellers run to seek cover from the downfall. I relish the feeling of the rain falling upon me, drenching my hair and clothing, soaking through to my skin with no barrier of an umbrella obstructing its path. I am distracted from my individual paradise by a couple laughing. She is dressed in a bright floral sundress and he is in khaki shorts with a navy sports coat. He is holding her back and they are spinning in one another's embrace. Her arms fly out to the side, her head thrown back in the most carefree laughter I've ever heard. I stand back and capture the moment. I capture the love in his eyes, the smile splitting his face in two, and the glow that surrounds her. After a few minutes I scurry off to head home, in hopes that I have caught some good images from my day today.


	6. Ch: 6

AN: I wasn't going to post this until tomorrow but after a conversation a little bird on facebook I decided to post a day early... I'm hoping to post again before I go camping for the 4th for a week - BUT in case I can't for whatever reason, I hope you'll forgive me ;).

_Review! But most of all, Enjoy! _

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**Christian POV:**

I wake up after another near sleepless night. I swear the ability to function after so little sleep should be a super power with the rate I've been going. Ever since Laura died, I've been plagued with night terror upon night terror. I was six years old and left without my best friend and sister to help me fend off both a mother who was certifiably insane and the pervasive sense of self-hatred that only grew more toxic as I matured. It's so interesting to me that after all these years I feel completely separated from my life as a Fulton, but then again, those first eight years of my life rule so many of my decisions and tendencies.

All of the damage wrought by my previous life can still be seen in physical scars on my body and in the emotional baggage that could load a Boeing 747 to the gills and still leave luggage left on the conveyer belt. The load is easier to carry with those that I now call family by my side. The Grey family saved me. Grace and Carrick Grey literally rescued me from a poison-filled and toxic environment; they brought me to my safe house. They fed me, clothed me, loved me, and cherished me. They nursed me back to health in every way imaginable. I like to remember this by visiting Laura every now and then, sitting with her in silence and allowing her to speak to me through the nature there. It's rare to find a corner of NYC with any nature left, but Laura's resting place has trees, birds, grass, and an unobstructed view of the water. The perfect place for a free spirited eight year old to rest. I come here to talk to her. Corny, I know, but it's the only small piece of her I can still hold onto besides when she visits me in my dreams.

Since I don't have to be at the mill renovation site until eleven to meet the contractor, I decide to detour and visit the cemetery where she is buried. I need to clear my head. I feel even more detached and emotionless lately, which is worrisome given how mechanical I tend to be. I shower, dress, and eat quickly, eager to find answers to questions I dare not ask. I need something more than the mundane routine I've fallen into. Wake up, get ready, eat, meet with contractors and designers, take old and dilapidated properties and allow their magnificence to shine through again, eat lunch somewhere in there, meet with more of my builders, work until dinner, eat, go to the club a few times a week and play a woman's body like the expert I am, then go home to an empty penthouse loft for another sleepless night. Sounds fulfilling, huh?

Growing up, all I wanted to do was fix things that were broken. I can remember Momma Grace driving through a broken down neighborhood in the Bronx with Elliot, Mia, and I in the back when I was nine and locking the doors and windows as a precaution. She saw chaos, poverty, and decay. I saw beauty, possibility, and a means for change. I vowed in that moment that I would find a way to bring things that are seemingly dead, back to life. It's the least I can do. _I couldn't save you, Laura. I'm so sorry. But I couldn't save you_. I sit in front of her headstone for hours; asking forgiveness, professing my love for her, telling her how much I need her here with me, how much I miss her, asking her for guidance. I need her to help quell the demons inside me. The darkness floats around my head and my chest, begging for release, killing me slowly. The physical poison has long since left my system, but the emotional and mental poison is as toxic as ever.

I close my eyes and sit, silent for a moment. Clearing my mind, I wait for her to speak to me. I listen to the birds singing, the children laughing as they walk to the bus stop, the horns sounding, and I feel the wind brush across my cheek. My hair shifting on my forehead ever so slightly. For many, this would be an everyday occurrence, something miniscule, never to be noted; but for me, this is my sign. Laura is here with me. When we were children and I was upset, she would brush the hair off my face and soothe me. _Baby boy, don't worry. I love you. I know you. You are beautiful and wonderful and so full of life. You can do anything you wish. I'm here for you. All you have to do is look hard enough. Always, I love you forever and like you for always._

She would repeat those same words to me every night after reading me that book for a year before she died. Every fucking night. It was like she knew she wouldn't survive. I didn't understand. I was mad at her for dying, for deserting me, for leaving me alone in hell, but then again, I was jealous. She got out and she left me.

_Lala, I need you. Always. It's getting harder to find you these days. Tell me what I'm supposed to do. I need a change. I need you. Please. Help me. Show me a sign._

I sit waiting patiently until my number two calls and interrupts my reverie.

"Grey."

"Christian, would you be able to make it to the Hill Apartments sooner than planned? There is a city ordinance officer here saying we need an extra permit that we were not informed of and he refuses to speak with anyone but you."

"Alright, Taylor. I'll be there soon."

I end the call, kiss Laura's cold headstone wishing it were her warm cheek instead, and head back to my car. Most people are enraged by New York City driving, I find it life affirming. It reminds me that I'm alive, I feel the full spectrum of emotions no matter how long or short my trip is, that is something I've never experienced in any other realm of my life. Arriving at the site of an old mill turned high-end renovated loft-style apartments, I see the pig-nosed pudgy city ordinance enforcer who has been summoned to handle my case today. I look at his faded blue work pants and white button-up sprinkled with coffee stains trying to hide my distaste for such an appearance. I may not have started out with much, but I have self-respect and my appearance says a lot about me. I ask him into my office and sign all the necessary permits to continue our work without having to lose any time on the job, which was what Mr. Dale had threatened to Jason Taylor this morning. After a day spent putting out fires and correcting the mistakes my idiot contractors were missing from their men, I'm frustrated and exhausted. I decide I need to hit the club tonight even though it's a Tuesday and I usually avoid the club at the beginning of the week.

I walk through the metal door of Saevum Dominatur and inhale the scent of dragon's blood incense, leather, and lust. I seat myself in a corner with an iced water to take in the scenes occurring around me. I am not tied to a submissive right now, nor do I wish to be. The last submissive I entered into a long term relationship with lasted six months before she decided she wanted more from me. I've never had a relationship that worked, so I stick to playing with women at the club. I could never give my girlfriends what they wanted emotionally. I could fuck them senseless and I could say all the right things at exactly the right moment, but the foundation of feelings were ever absent in my "love-life" or lack thereof. My bother Elliot has the lady-killer gene covered. He is a smooth talker but he falls for one every once in a while. I was able to absorb his techniques for how to talk to a woman but you can't teach how to feel. That ship sailed a long time ago and I missed the boarding call. I blame the psycho-bitch I'm cursed enough to call my biological mother, Ella. I really fucking hate her.

I'm distracted from my thoughts by three women entering the club around ten, two I have seen before but one is definitely new. She's wearing the yellow bracelet on her delicate pale wrist. I can't believe I've been sitting here staring into space, not even engaging in any play for two hours now and it's taken this beauty walking in, to bring me back from my brewing rage. I take in her physical presence… her chestnut hair, small and plush pink lips, perfect tits, hourglass figure, and legs that go on for days. Her ass is round and looks to be firm, begging for my hand to skim across it, causing that delicious pale skin to warm and pink under the strike. My cock stirs at the thought. She looks nervous and apprehensive, broken but so beautiful. Once they arrive at the bar I notice Dean approach the blonde woman in white, his submissive, and take her to the scene space.

The beauty and her exotic looking companion who's name I think is Camille begin speaking softly to one another before Liam approaches Cam with his head down. I've seen him progress over the last few years at the club, he's a highly trained submissive now and the best tool for a newer Domme like Camille. If Cam is starting a scene with Liam, this could be my chance to speak with the beauty. I make to stand but find that she is following behind them to the back. Fuck. For the first time I notice she's in black too. Damn it. She's a Domme? No way. She has submissive written all over her stance and mannerisms. Sure, she could be nervous, but it was more than that. I feel drawn to her on a cellular level. I need to do something to get my mind off this woman if she is training to be a Domme.

I search out Leila, a sub I've played with on occasion and strap her to the stocks in the main room and begin working her over with a cane then a flogger. I pour my frustrations into the cane then tend very carefully to her pleasure when I flog her. It is only after I've switched to the flogger that I notice we've gained an audience. Leila has always been responsive and ready for anything. She has few hard limits and a high pain tolerance, but I love to reward my partners with a mind-blowing orgasm to end our playtime. I rarely engage in the sexual act myself. I have enough understanding of how sex plays into a woman desiring more from a relationship… and I'm just not equipped to give that. As I bring the flogger down onto the crease between her ass and thigh I feel that wind brush across my face, stopping me in my tracks momentarily. I look to the door and see My Beauty leaving with Cam and the other woman. Shit, she's leaving already. I increase the speed of my now sensual assault on Leila, determined to satisfy her needs in place of my own. After four more strikes, she comes apart for all eyes in the main room. I detach her from the stock and lead her to a sofa so I can provide her aftercare and fetch her a glass of water. Once I'm sure she is fully taken care of, I leave to sort out what the hell this "_My Beauty" _talk is and why Laura decided that moment of all moments was the one to show me a sign. What the fuck am I supposed to make of that? I leave the club and drive home in my black exterior, red interior, 1955 Jaguar XK140 Roadster that I found and refurbished with my father in my late teens. This car is my pride and joy, my first big fix-it-myself project; the one that started it all. My drive is convoluted with images of striking blue eyes and flowing brown hair affording me very little of the freedom that I have come to enjoy about my drives through the city.

Why do I get the feeling this is more than just a fantasy?

No. That's all it can be. She is training to be a Domme and you are a Dominant. There is no possibility of this working. Whatever the thought of _this _may be.

Why the hell do I keep referring to her as _My Beauty?_

She sure as hell isn't mine. No one is. I'm not cut out for that shit.

I'm selfish. I'm cursed. I'm broken.

Laura's words drift back to me, _Baby boy, don't worry. I love you. _

_I know you. You are beautiful and wonderful and so full of life. _

_You can do anything you wish. _

_I'm here for you. All you have to do is look hard enough. Always._

_I love you forever and like you for always…_

Her voice runs on a loop through my mind, a soundtrack as I pour myself a whiskey on the rocks and sit on my balcony overlooking the city. The lights and sounds used to help put my soul at ease but right now all they are accomplishing is to make me yearn for that sweet girl I saw at the club. I want to touch her, taste her, and feel her against me. I want to hear her beg me for a release, beg me for more.

Hmmm…. More.

* * *

The book Laura would read and quote to Christian was _Love You Forever_ by Robert Munsch.


	7. Ch: 7

AN: THANK YOU for ALL of the feedback, reviews, favorites, and followers! You guys are amazing! Keep those reviews and PMs coming! It is my best form of motivation!

Now- my guess is it'll be radio silence until after my camping trip! Enjoy the update! :) Let me know what you think!

* * *

Christian POV

It's been four long days of incessant work to distract my mind from thoughts of her. I don't even know her name, but every inch of her glorious figure has been burned into my memory. Etched there with careful attention to detail never to be shaken away again. Those gorgeous blue eyes sent chills down my spine, her long brown hair, the way her hips swung ever so slightly as she walked across the club and that innocent and radiant persona emitting from her. I've been dreaming of her, awake and asleep, anxiously hoping to see her again. I need to discover if she is as delectable in real life as I've now surely imagined her to be. No woman could possibly be as perfect as my memory is recalling her.

I've spent every night at the club since Tuesday hoping to catch a sight of her and to have a moment to talk to her, but to no avail. Tonight I will no longer just sit on the sidelines waiting for her to walk through the door. I will play tonight. I can't keep putting my life on hold for a woman who I've not even spoken to yet, especially as she is training to be a Domme. It will never work.

I called Rose and asked her to meet me at the club tonight for some play. It's a Friday and the club tends to be more crowded which always builds my anticipation. I love the prospect of attracting the attention of fellow club members while playing a scene. Many people like to do their scenes behind the privacy of the curtain and doors, but I rather enjoy the prospect of other's seeing me work. I have worked long and hard to learn the right chords to play on the grand piano that is a woman's body, each having its own set of melodic notes and harmonies building its unique arpeggiato to the crescendo over and over until we've reached the coda. Each piano, each woman, each scene is a masterpiece played by my hand, my fingers, and my mind but never with a woman or a scene is my heart involved. Rose is a wonderful submissive in this way, she never has expected anything other than the scene. She knows our agreement. I make her body sing and vibrate and move in all the right ways while she accepts that her role is to do just that: accept.

I remember the first time I played with Rose over two years ago. She was dressed in a small red lace top, tight white jeans, and killer red high heels to match the blood red paint on her lips. Her dirty blonde hair was shorter then, resting above her shoulders in baby dreadlocks, now they cascade down her torso and are littered with chains and feathers for added drama. Rose has never been one to shy away from attention and for a submissive she drew the attention like none other I'd ever seen. She's petite at less than five feet tall, has clear blue eyes, and pale skin. She pales in comparison to_ her_, alright. I try to push the mystery woman out of my mind, now is not the time for a daydream. Rose's frame is easy to manipulate in scene; she's light and flexible which adds to the different bondage we can do. And she knows I exist, so my focus will remain on her. Tonight I want to keep it straightforward, no intense bondage, just fasten her up, clamp her, and take a crop to her alabaster skin. I need to get into the scene as quickly as possible, no dicking around.

It's just after 11pm when I enter the club. I spot Rose immediately despite the crowd on the floor. Normally the hype doesn't pick up until after 11 but tonight there is an added electricity in the air. The room palpates with a heady mix of lust and anticipation mingling with the bright lights from the DJ and the fog machine's mist. I make my way through the crowd, stalking her like a panther in the night; she doesn't have a chance with what I have planned this evening.

"Rose." I say quietly as I place my hand on her warm and exposed back. She's wearing a white dress that leaves little to the imagination, small straps, low back, deep v in the front, and the length cups just under her ass. It has little jewels all over it that shine when the light dances off of them. Her full dreadlocks are knotted back pulling the top off her face but still allowing them to flow freely down her back. If that mystery woman hadn't walked into the club earlier this week, Rose would have my cock standing at attention right now, much like she did with the rest of the crowd as she danced in the middle of the floor alone. But all I see is the need to release my tensions and she's the woman for the job tonight.

"Sir." She says quietly, turning to face me, lowering her gaze.

"I'd like to begin now. Let's get you over to the side of the room, shall we?"

"Yes, Sir." She wastes no time moving to the wall and eagerly awaiting her next instruction. I do enjoy a submissive that knows her place, which will be good for her tonight; she will be rewarded in plenty.

I walk up to her, turn her around and place her hands on the wall. Her breathing has become shallow, her chest rising and falling at a rapid rate. I can see her struggling to control it, closing her eyes, leaning into my words. Standing behind her with my hands at her waist I whisper, "I want you to dance for me, just like you were on the dance floor. I want you to be impossible to resist, Rose. Let me see you. Let me feel you. Make me want you." With that, I stand back and enjoy the show.

I have purposely set myself with my back to the rest of the room. I don't want to know if she's here. I need to get her out of my mind, and this is how I will be able to accomplish that. Of course, I know I'm crazy if I think playing with someone else will rid the curve of her body from my mind, but I need to try.

Rose is dancing; her hips twisting, her hands caressing her body, her head lolling back and forth without a care, she is lost in the music and those around me are lost watching her. I feel myself growing more agitated that I am not able to focus purely on her. Fuck. This woman is gorgeous and one of the best submissives I've ever had and yet, nothing. My focus keeps drifting back to _her._ Okay. That's enough. I pick up my bag and pull out Rose's favorite nipple clamps, the ball gag, two sets of handcuffs, and my crop.

"Now, we're ready, and you're overdressed, panties and heels only." She makes quick work of divulging herself of her clothing, leaving me with the site of her round breasts rising and falling with anticipation and a small white lace thong. I'm finally able to concentrate on the carefree creature in front of me. I reach up and secure her right wrist in one end of the handcuff then attach the other end to the ring on the wall. Repeating the action on the other side I ask her what her safeword action will be, as she will be gagged this evening.

"Three stomps of my right foot, Sir."

"Very good, Rose. Since it's loud in here tonight and crowded, our scene will not be complex. A gag, nipple clamps, and a crop. Are you ready?"

"Yes, Sir." She breathes as I slowly trace my fingertips from her ear, down her neck, across her collar bone, circling her breasts until I reached her nipples, ending with a pinch on each. I bend down and begin kissing, sucking, and biting them getting the sensations and blood concentrated on these small pink areas of her body, preparing them for the clamps. I move the attention of my mouth to her left breast, sucking and licking softly and clamp the right. She moans and her back arches slightly against the wall. In a moment she calms as I proceed to the left, she breathes out fully as the teeth clamp down. She managed the pain in stride the second time; she was able to fully convert it.

"Good girl, Rose, very good."

I secure the gag and attach the chain from the clamps onto the ring on the ball. Rose is responsive and tends to arch her back often during play, because of the chain attached to the clamps, now when she does this, it will pull up and create more tension on her nipples. She has learned to control this, to take this in stride, over the two years we've played together on and off. She's a faster learner, this one. I pace around her from side to side, teasing the crop along her skin. I see goosebumps rise and she closes her eyes to take in the sensation. I allow it for a moment but quickly swat her behind, "Rose, you're gagged. I need to see your eyes." She nods and opens her eyes. I rain quick and sharp bites of the leather onto her skin, her breasts, her stomach, and her thighs. I avoid any area encased in her now wet thong, that is the finale my friend.

After 30 strikes I've lost count and step back to admire the welts that have formed all over her skin. A sliver of satisfaction rushes my systems and I want more. I move to the side of her to begin again and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. What the fuck. I look around the room and I see her. _The Beauty. _In that moment, I get lost in her magnificent blue eyes. I can see the sadness there, I can feel her soul call out to mine, and I feel her strength. She breaks our gaze and I feel bereft and empty. How can that be? It was only a look. I've seen this woman twice and she has my heart in her hands already. How can that be? I don't understand. Frustrated, I run my hands through my hair and when I chance a look up at her again, she's gone.

Fuck.

"Rose, I'm sorry but I do not think I can continue this scene in my mind set. It wouldn't be responsible of me. I'm too distracted. You may speak freely." I say as I remove the gag and unclip it from the clamps.

"Sir, I can sense that you are not fully present. Perhaps we could grab a drink for now and talk then later we can continue if you feel up to it?"

I can sense her disappointment but I am pleased at her willingness to understand.

"Yes, I think I would like that. Let's get you set up with some cream for those welts, then you can get dressed and we'll head to the coffee shop around the corner. This isn't quite the venue I'd like to talk in."

She nods and I apply the arnica cream from my bag to her front and gently rub her wrists then she dresses and follows me out of the club.

"What would you like?"

"An iced mocha latte please!" She says excitedly, near jumping out of her seat. I smirk and shake my head at her enthusiasm.

"Coming right up."

I return with her latte and my regular hot coffee.

"So Christian, you want to tell me where your head is? We haven't played together in a few months then you call me tonight. And we weren't able to complete the scene, what's going on?"

I take a deep breath and try to compile my words to speak truthfully but not make me sound like a creep.

"I met someone… sort of…"

She takes a small sip of her drink and urges me on with a small nod.

"I saw her at the club earlier this week. She's training to be a Dominant, I believe. But she's captivating. I've never seen anyone like her before. She has this electricity about her that I'm helpless to. I haven't even spoken to her but I know that I have to have her. It's crazy, right? I'm crazy? I mean what other explanation is there for something like this? Plus if she's a Domme, it'll never work."

Rose is quiet, taking in all of my words, before she speaks. "Christian, I've known you for two years, and I think that's the most you've ever said to me in one sitting." She's smirking at me and I can't help but return the expression.

"So it may seem."

"Listen, it sounds to me like you need to speak to her. See where she is in the lifestyle, what her reasons are for coming in, and then we can determine if you're in need of some psychotropics or not."

I like Rose. I think this could be the start of a friendship for us. Strange though. I've never really had a female friend before, but Rose and I have always had an unconventional relationship compared to my other submissives. I always let her get away with a little more because her spirit is just so youthful and free, I never wanted to aid in crushing it, even though she sought out the lifestyle on her own. We all have our reasons for finding it. Some, like me, have demons they are trying to chase away. While others, like Rose, are searching for something more fulfilling than typical "vanilla" sex and find their way to kinky sex and BDSM.

For the rest of the evening we talk about everything not related to that chestnut haired blue-eyed beauty dancing through my consciousness. She tells me about her English major at the University, her family, and her dog and I tell her about my brother Elliot and his landscaping business, my sister Mia who is a social worker for the state and my work as a renovator. I tell her how we're all adopted but I keep our histories close to the belt, no reason for her to know any of that. We talk politics, music, and movies and soon it is nearing 3am. Luckily, this is New York and things rarely close. I offer to walk her back to her car and then head home with a mind full of questions and a heart full of warmth.

Why do her eyes show such sadness? Has someone hurt her? I feel a sudden sense of rage at the thought. I don't even know this woman and yet the thought of someone or something hurting her sends such anger through my system that I'm gripping my steering wheel with white knuckles. No, I will show her what it means to be cared for. I will shower her with love and try to always reflect her beauty back to her. But how? I need to do some more research on her before I attempt to speak to her. Yes, I'll do more research first. I need to know more before I proceed with this… I need to know more about her.

For the first night in I can't remember how long, I fall into a peaceful sleep filled with deep blue soulful eyes and light.


	8. Ch: 8

AN: A huge thank you to all of my readers, reviewers, PMers, and my betas! I could not do this without each and every one of you.

To the guest who said Ana should fuck around before getting with Christian because obviously he's doing it - I ask you - where does it ever say he's having sex with anyone? On the contrary it actually says he doesn't sleep with the women he scenes with because that allows them to be too attached and he can't provide them the emotional piece so he makes their bodies sing in orgasm through play alone, but my CG never has sex with them.

Check out my facebook and pinterest pages for inspiration pics and updates! Links are in my author profile.

To PerhapsPerhapsPerhaps- you have been one of my favorite writers on FF since I started reading and to have you 1. read my story 2. like it and 3. give me advice and such a high compliment I am humbled and in awe. If you guys haven't checked out her stories yet - you need to. Amazing.

Now, onward with the stories. It's a shorter chapter tonight but I'll post again in a few days! Also, Shades of Fifty will be updated by Tuesday! :)

* * *

"Marissa, let me just say how glad I am that you're finally back and that you rescheduled my session to a Monday so we could start to catch up. I'm really glad I could do this because of the holiday and don't have to worry about working today. Thank heavens for Memorial day, huh?! Well, we should get going… I have a lot to tell you." Jesus, I haven't even made it into my seat and I've already said more to her this session than I had Kate the last three weeks in her absence.

"Well then, let's get started, shall we? Where do you want to begin Ana?"

"The club." I pause for a moment to gather my thoughts. "I've been training with Cam and her submissive Lee for four weeks now. When I'm in that room with the two of them I feel in control. I feel confident. And I feel cherished in my role. Having the responsibility to care for Lee in that way is a high like I've never experienced before. To know that he trusts me not to hurt him in any real way is baffling but so empowering for me." I look to Marissa for a cue that I need to slow down or elaborate but see nothing and decide to continue on.

"For the most part, I've done really well with controlling my panic and flashbacks before they overwhelm me. For instance just yesterday, I was on the train and was triggered by a Regina Spektor song of all things." Shaking my head as I recall those moments on the train, I ask Marissa if she knows the song _Laughing With_ when she says no I tell her about it in summary before detailing the portion that I had trouble with. "She talked about how people don't laugh at God when they realize the last thing they'll ever see is a pair of hateful eyes and all I could see were Griffin's eyes in front of me. I froze and immediately began to spiral into panic right there on the train but then the song changed. It changed to _Moonlight Sonata, _a song that holds incredible amounts of strength and significance for me as you know, and I was able to focus on my breathing and calm. I was on the train for Christ's sake! I kept calm on a crowded subway train! Then I was able to go to the park still! And then I continued to take photographs of the people and things there! It was amazing. Hell, I feel alive for the first time in… well, since ever. I feel strong. And I don't want to give that up."

As I pause to take a sip of water and regroup Marissa's curiosity kicks in. "Why would you think you have to give it up?"

"Because of him" I blurt out without thinking then suddenly I feel I've said too much.

"Because of who?" She prods on, raising an eyebrow.

I try to distract myself by taking in her appearance for the first time all session. Her blue button down blouse and grey dress pants fit more loosely than the last time she wore the combo showing her clear weight loss. Her eyes are outlined with darkened circles and her hair hasn't been given its usual precise treatment. I feel a pang of guilt for not noticing earlier, needing to bring myself back to the topic at hand I ponder her question, deciding to ask about her at the close of the session. How can I possibly say it's his fault I fear losing this new found sense of self… especially when thoughts of him have been filling me with strength and hope? Because I'm usually a submissive in these daydreams and that scares the daylights out of me. That's how. _Oh, right…_

"I don't know who he is. I've seen him four times at the club from a distance now and once up close. But I've never said more than thank you to him before running out- I'll explain that in a minute. I'm seriously surprised I didn't burn a pathway into the floor of the club that night with how quickly I hightailed it out of there. But this mystery man of mine, well of my dreams really, he's a Dominant. My dreams and daydreams of us together more often than not involve me submitting to him…" The words sped out of my mouth at a rate which I'd not experienced before. Who knew I could talk so fast?

I take a deep cleansing breath, taking to control my now rapid heartbeat. "After everything, I'm not sure I'm strong enough to even consider letting someone else have control over me yet. I'm not sure I ever will be.

"I know this might sound crazy but I feel like he'd never hurt me… that he'd really take care of me how I intend to take care of my submissive. Part of me believes I could submit to him, submit to him alone, for him alone, but that thought scares the living shit out of me, Marissa. I guess I just don't know what to do with these thoughts and feelings. They're so foreign to me. I just don't know what to do."

I push my hands over my hair and rest my elbows onto my knees to center myself when her voice breaks though. "Do you feel the need to know what to do with those thoughts and feelings right now? I mean you said you don't even know his name yet. Do you need to know right now what may or may not happen?"

"No. You're right. I'm getting ahead of myself. Thanks for pulling me back." My voice is laced with sincerity and my lips playing a small smile both quickly disappear as I blurt out, "But that's my issue! I'm having all these thoughts and I don't even know his fucking name! I've not spoken more than two words to the man and I don't know his name or where he's from or what he does. But I know the curve of his smile and the way he holds a crop. I can see the glint in his deep grey eyes, hear the call of his soul and I know anytime he's in the room because I swear the hair on my neck stands on end. I always thought people were exaggerating about that… but it happens. I don't understand any of this, but I want to. I want to understand it more than anything."

I take a full and deep breath following the example of Marissa as she attempts to prevent a surge of panic from flooding my system. Inhale… Exhale… Inhale… Exhale… Inhale… Exhale… Okay, I think I'm good to move on… I hope.

"I'm ready to tell you about when I spoke to him now." I say softly, suddenly feeling the panic and insecurity rise to the surface again.

"Whenever you're ready." Marissa's words are soothing and hold a sense of comfort and understanding. I can do this.

"After my last training session, I was in the main room waiting for Jess when he caught my attention across the room. Just like each other time, we both stopped and seemed to focus solely on the other… that's the only way I can describe it that sounds even remotely sane. It feels as if no one else exists outside of the two of us. After a few moments of my being completely lost in his eyes… in his presence, I was jolted back to my harsh reality as someone pinned my arms behind my back and cuffed them quickly before pushing me into the wall to my right, face first and holding me there. Even as I'm talking to you about it, I can feel his breath on my neck and it smells just like Griffin's did, mint and cigarettes. If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was Griffin. He has a mask on though, a red mask that covered all of his face down to his upper lip and his hair. His touch burned into mu skin. His presence near me literally hurt." My skin begins to crawl at the memory and my breath catches in my throat. My heart is clawing at my ribcage, beating at the pace of a hummingbirds wings but the weight of a bolder falling down a cliff. "I… I don't remember if I screamed or not. The music was really loud and I felt the panic so viscerally in my veins that I passed out right there in this creep's arms."

Marissa's face resembles one who might have just seen a ghost, pale and wide-eyed.

"According to Cam and Jess, who had apparently just came out of her scene with her Dominant, he tried to take me into one of the private rooms but did not get far as the mystery man jumped in and literally knocked him out then held me in his arms until I came to. The creeper, as Jess so wonderfully named him, was gone before I awoke in the arms of the mystery Dom.

* * *

_"Beauty… Come back to us… Beauty, please… Come back to us. He's gone. Come on Beauty. Are you hurt? So help me God if that fucker hurt you. I'll kill him. Beauty, please, come back to us…" After a sound that closely resembled a sob I hear him whisper in my ear, "Come back to me Beauty… please."_

_I open my eyes to the most wondrous sight imaginable- grey eyes as deep as the ocean. So closely resembling its depth that I can taste the salt on my lips, feel the wind in my hair, and smell the tide hanging in the air._

_"Thank you." I murmur softly before breathing in his scent, clean cotton, is suddenly replaced as my brain catches up with the sequence of events that led to this moment. As my world crashes down around me again I jump from his arms and run for the door, grabbing Cam and Jess's hands on the way out. I can't think straight. I need air. I need space. I need a solid clean breath to draw into my lungs._

_What just happened?..._

* * *

I replay the entire event in detail to Marissa before saying how that night each and every nightmare featured Griffin en masse.

"I meant it when I said every piece of that situation screamed Griffin. But he's supposed to be in Florida and far the fuck away from me at all times. It couldn't have been him… Could it?"

The horror and reality starts crashing in. I am crushed under the weigh of it. Fuck, it could be him. It could have been. But I have a restraining order since his attack on me at NYU a few years ago and he's long since been paid off a significant amount by my sorry excuse of parents who didn't want to have their precious reputations soiled with another sordid scandal brought on by me, especially one that involved sexual acts, again. I can still remember my mother calling me a slut and my stepfather telling me I was asking for it. They were cowards and I allowed them to drag down my opportunity to seek justice just so they could continue to live the lifestyle they had only just regained after the trial and fallout from Uncle Leroy and the fuckoff twins. He's not dumb enough to start violating the most recent restraining order is he? Shit. What if it was him? I can't have him knowing where I spend free time… What if he already knew and that's how he ended up at _Saevum Dominatur_. Fuck.

"Ana!" Marissa yells, stopping me in my tracks. "Calm down. Breathe. In through the nose. Out through the mouth." She models more measured breathing before adding, "we're just about at time, but I'm acutely aware that I am not comfortable sending you out in this state… What would you like to do to regain some grounding before leaving?"

"I'm just nervous now that it was him… but I'm okay." Deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out. "I think… Well, I hope."  
"I want you to call me if you need anything. I mean it Ana. If you need me at all, you call. Day or night, anytime, you call me." I reassure her that I will call if I need to and depart her office in a haze of misunderstanding and ominous pressure bearing down on me.

As I walk a few blocks away from Thrive, I think of all that's happened over just the last 60 minutes, nevermind the last four weeks, and I can't help the tears from cascading down my cheeks. The prospect of Griffin making another appearance in my life is completely overwhelming; drowning out any and all of the good and empowering energy I'd been feeling in the moments prior. I need a space to calm down and find myself ducking into a performing arts studio to clear my thoughts. I browse the paintings and photographs of the resident artists.

I wander into a room filled with black and white acrylic paintings and stand staring open mouthed at one portrait for what felt like hours before the artist Mia comes up behind me.

"Beautiful, isn't she?"

I cannot find my words. They are stuck somewhere at the back of my throat and my only response is a subtle nod, never moving my eyes from the figure in from of me. The woman is petite, standing on wide slabs of concrete covering the floor. She's dressed in a black fitted tee and black capri pants. Her feet are barefoot and her legs have a wide stable base of bent knees, arched feet, and her right foot in front of her left. These legs are her supports but to me she looks overwhelmed by the sheer black scarf covering her face pulling her toward it, wanting to consume her. She's fighting it. I can see that, but her struggle looks long and painful, riddled with broken hearts and bruises. The painting is displayed in black, white, and grey which I, as an artist myself, appreciate as I feel it allows the soul of the subject to shine through without any added distraction. She is beautiful. I stand in awe, tears at the corners of my eyes, threatening to fall once again, for a few minutes before I find the words to speak.

"Is this yours?" I ask the woman standing next to me, who I've yet to look at.

"Yes. I called this piece _A Forgotten Remembrance _in honor of Laura, my brother's biological sister. She died when he was really young, before he came to be adopted by our parents. He was so young but he's always held so tightly to her memory. The black scarf for me symbolized the pain he experienced losing her; it eclipsed all else. But they were so young, so incredibly young… he still, to this day, mourns her loss, blames himself now for not being able to save her. He forgets to remember that he was a child, and he couldn't save her. He forgets to remember…"

Her final sentence is barely choked out as her emotions look as though they may swallow her whole.

She's a brunette with stunning features framed by her long curls. Her bright brown eyes and natural make up accentuate a youthful fresh face. A tall woman, around 5'8", she's thin with long legs under her black dress accompanied by a nude belt embellished with a large matching flower on the right side of her waist. I see she's wearing a matching skin-toned cuff on her left wrist and complementary stilettos.

"What does he think of it?" I ask, not sure of my boundaries when inquiring.

"He hasn't seen it yet. He'll be here for the gallery opening in just a few moments actually."

"Oh!" I look around for the first time and notice the trays of champagne, cheese, and finger sandwiches. The room is scattered with vases overflowing with gerbera daisies and baby's breath. "I guess I was so wrapped up in my own mind that I didn't even notice. How lame is that?" I ask with a shake of my head and a shrug of my shoulders. How self-absorbed am I?

As people start to filter in, I'm glad I took the time to get ready before my session this morning. I chose a sheer white long sleeve top along with my teal crotcheted shorts and matching chunky necklace and flats. My hair is in a low ponytail off my left shoulder and I don't feel self-conscious about my appearance as I look around me.

"I'm Mia by the way" she says, holding her hand out to shake mine. "Mia Grey."

"I'm Ana Steele. It's great to meet you." I look around at her artwork displayed around the small room, "Your work is stunning. Absolutely brilliant. I'm so glad I decided to take a break from my thoughts and found my way in here."

A low, silky smooth voice comes from behind me and I don't need to turn around to know it's him… the mystery man. I can felt he crackle of electricity causing the hair on my neck to stand at attention.

"Ana, please, meet my brother Christian. Christian meet Ana."

Holy crap on a cracker.

"Pleasure to finally meet you Ana" Christian says, his grey eyes alight with a deep passion and a deep sorrow.


	9. Ch: 9

AN: I hope you enjoy this update! I had a serious love/hate relationship with it! - So please - give me your feedback! Thank you for all the support last chapter! I'll be replying to those I haven't yet soon, I promise! Thank you thank you thank you everyone! (especially my betas Wren & Toni - And a special shout out to Deenz for allowing me to bounce some ideas off you!)

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Christian POV

I can't believe I didn't even get her name the other night… What the hell is wrong with me? I'll have to find a way to speak to her the next time I see her. I can't risk losing another opportunity. It's like my brain and mouth fail to communicate when she's in the building. Glad I decided to walk to clear my mind, I glory in the warmth of the sun on my skin as I round the last block to Mia's art show opening. Who would have thought her endless paint splatters all over Momma and Dad's dining room table when we were kids would land her a full art show one day?

Stepping into the gallery, it takes me only seconds to spot Mia. My focus quickly hones in on the conversation she's having and more importantly whom she is conversing with. It's her… Beauty.

I stand back, rooted to my place, unable to move, observing as they discuss the painting. I hear Mia say, "I called this piece _"A Forgotten Remembrance" _in honor of Laura, my brother's biological sister. She died when he was really young, before he came to be adopted by our parents. He was so young but he's always held so tightly to her memory. The black scarf for me symbolized the pain he experienced losing her; it eclipsed all else. But they were so young, so incredibly young… he still, to this day, mourns her loss, blames himself now for not being able to save her. He forgets to remember that he was a child, and he couldn't save her. He forgets to remember…"

I need air. I make a hasty exit before the dry heaves begin wracking my body, an earthquake fault line shifting in my chest. Why wouldn't she have told me about that? Why didn't she tell me about that? Why didn't she warn me? Why didn't she ask me?! She had no right to not tell me about that! How could she let me walk blind into something like this? I feel the anger bubbling up, surrounded by my frustration and sorrow. Why did she tell Beauty all of that?

Suddenly I see Laura's face, as clear as the day we lay her to rest. She's smiling back at me; her brown eyes, light brown hair, and freckles flash before my eyes. She was only eight when I lost her, but she was always incredibly wise beyond her years. Her words grace my memory again… _Baby boy, don't worry. I love you. I'm here for you. All you have to do is look hard enough. Always._

Finding support against the hard brick wall of the building I feel that precious breeze cross my face. _I love you forever and like you for always, Laura. Always. _Taking a few steadying breaths, I head back into the opening of Mia's show. I'll just focus on that beautiful woman I held in my arms just a few precious nights ago.

"I'm Mia by the way." She reaches out to shake Beauty's hand and I feel a strange sense of jealousy. Really? It's my sister for fuck's sake. "Mia Grey."

"I'm Ana Steele. It's great to meet you." Beauty looks around the room and takes in Mia's various paintings, "Your work is stunning. Absolutely brilliant. I'm so glad I decided to take a break from my thoughts and found my way in here."

Here's my chance. Now or never, Casanova.

"Me too." Nice one… So smooth… not. I try to stay as confident as possible but as her blue eyes turn to find mine I have everything I can do to not pull her into my arms again, this time never letting her go.

As we stand in silence, Mia looks open-mouthed between the two of us, clears her throat, then decides to make the introductions.

"Ana, please, meet my brother, Christian. Christian meet Ana."

"Pleasure to finally meet you, Ana."

We stare lost in one another again before Ana finally finds her voice.

"I… umm… I'm really s-s-sorry. Y-y-you know… about the other day… Running away and all… I… I… I ju…just really needed air… and sp-sp-space." I want to smile at her words as they stumble from her mouth. Her magnificent mouth. Stop that, not right now. She turns to leave and before panic can set in I grab her hand and pull her back toward me.

"It's okay. I'd never hold it against you… you did have quite a full few minutes there." Her face falls and she wipes a stray tear with her left hand. I catch sight of an old antique ring on her finger. It's gorgeous and my chest constricts with the realization that she could be unavailable, engaged, or worse, married. No. No, the universe is not that fucking cruel. What would be the point of a connection like this if she wasn't even available for us to explore it? Why would I be dreaming of her, running into her like this, and having my every day consumed by this woman alone if she could never be mine? The air is stolen from my lungs as I continue to stare at the ring; a beautiful old world ring for a beautiful old soul of a woman.

She must have caught my gaze because she begins to explain, "It was my grandmother's. She died before I was born but my Papa Steele gave it to me after my father passed away." Yet again seeking solace in Mia's paintings, she settles on the image of a woman's side profile encased in the light and warmth of a sunset. There are trees and shadow surrounding her, but she seems not to care with her head tilted toward the sky. A bright ball of sunlight escapes the shadowy profile of her figure in front of her neck. The crystal blue of Ana's eyes cloud with water as she takes in the image, reaching out her hand; she gently strokes the canvas before turning into my chest where her tears dissolve into full sobs.

I stand, holding her face tightly to my chest, one hand buried in her hair the other clasped firmly around her shoulders. Inhaling her scent, I commit it to memory and realize that nothing matters besides the woman in my arms and the scent of wild cherry blossoms attacking my senses. With my eyes closed tightly I attempt to will her spirit to be at ease, to absorb her pain by osmosis and rid her of any further grief; past, present, or future. How is it possible for me to feel so intrinsically connected to someone whose favorite food, color, flower, and movie I do not know? I don't know her life story or her middle name but I know the lightness I feel when I'm around her and the warmth in my chest when I hold her in my arms and that, for now, is enough.

As the heaving of her chest slows and the pressure digging into my back from her fingers eases, she pushes back against my hands, tilting her head causing our eyes to meet. I slowly move my hand currently tangled in her hair to wipe the remnants of stray tears from her now flushed face. My thumb burns with our connection and she savors the moment by leaning into my touch, briefly brushing her lips across the back of my knuckles with closed eyes. When she opens them I see a burning desire clocked behind the calm blue and feel my stomach drop to somewhere near the soles of my shoes. The effect this woman has over me is unnerving, wonderful, and completely unexpected. She bites the inside of her lip and smiles up at me.

"Umm... Sorry about that… again." My hands drop in search of hers, finding them soft at her sides, fitting perfectly into mine.

"No, really, it's my pleasure, Ana. What would you say to a cup of coffee or lunch? My treat. I'd like to get to know you, if you'd allow." Please say yes. Please. Please. Please say yes. I can't believe I'm actually pleading in my mind for her to agree to have a date with me.

"Yes," she whispers softly with a gentle squeeze of my fingertips.

"Mia, we're going to head out… I'll come back for the show tomorrow." I give her a hug with one arm, not willing to cease contact with Ana, and kiss her temple gently.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Go ahead. I'll see you later." Mia stands back and waves goodbye to Ana, telling her how wonderful it was to meet her and how she hopes to see her again soon. I know that look in her eyes, those two will be friends, whether I like it or not. What Mia wants, Mia gets. "Oh, and Christian, check out Iaconi's on the corner, best Italian for at least ten blocks!" She yells to our backs as we hit the NYC sunlight with my arm resting comfortably around my Beauty's shoulders. We make the short walk to the restaurant in silence and I'm stunned at how at ease I feel with her. I have a million questions zinging through my mind, but I'm content not asking a fucking one if it means I can remain this at peace, basking in her glow.

As we pass through a crowd at one street corner, I feel her tense next to me. She looks behind us then begins to pick up her pace. I fall in step beside her, anxious to calm her from her obvious discomfort.

"Ana, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just… Let's get to the restaurant, please." She shoves her fists into the pockets of her shorts, which remind me of a robin's egg Laura and I found in the backyard before she got sick… before my life crashed down around me. No. I can't think about that now. I need to focus on what's in front of me, what's here in front of me right now… focus on who is here with me right now.

We enter the small candle lit restaurant and are escorted to a booth in the back corner. The light from the candles glows brilliantly off her chestnut hair. The table is dressed in a white lace cloth. Briefly, I wonder what she would look like in an all white lace dress, short enough to show off those killer legs and tight enough to accentuate her curves, but leaving just enough to the imagination to leave my fingers itching to undress her. Yes, I'll have to ask her about how she got into the lifestyle and why she decided to train as a Domme with Cam and Liam. I've tried to ask Liam but he's been very quiet about their dynamics, wouldn't even give me her name. I'm not upset, just frustrated by that. But I guess it doesn't matter anymore because here we are, together, in a quiet booth after I had another opportunity to hold her in my arms. I swear I never wanted to let her go. This is completely foreign to me. It's usually the women in my life who want a more intimate relationship but I've never been able to give them the emotional commitment they desire. It's always felt as though a piece of me is missing and that I am unworthy of a love like those in books and movies… like the one Momma Grace and Dad have.

The waiter comes to fill our glasses with water and take our drink orders. Pinot Nior for us both. She is definitely a woman after my own heart.

Clearing my throat I decide it's time for me to know more about the woman who has haunted every waking and dreaming moment of my past few weeks. "So Ana, do you like art?" Really? That was the best thing I could come up with? Damn it. This is already falling flat on its face.

"I love art... in all forms: painting, photography, dance, music, movies. There's so much beauty to capture in the world and I can only hope to give a fraction of that back. It makes me feel like I'm losing and finding myself at the same time." Her eyes glimmer with hope and passion; I'm completely spellbound by the creature sitting across from me. "I'm sorry… that was probably more than you ever cared to know." Her voice drops below a whisper as she apologizes.

"A little Thomas Merton, eh?" I question, I'm rewarded when she smiles and nods. I can feel the ice breaking for a moment and give into my burning desire to know more about her. "And please, I was truly…" entranced… "captivated by your words." I see a soft smile appear on her lips again as she inhales a long deep breath. "Judging by your passionate response and your saying you hope to give some of that beauty back- is it safe to assume you are also an artist?"

Her gaze slides down to her right, leaving the table to examine the stone floor from her seat. "I used to be," she whispers.

Not wanting to be accountable for the look of sorrow filling her eyes I take a steadying sip of my wine and will her to take the lead. For the first time in my adult life I have no idea where to turn or what to do. She meets my gaze and I feel that same sense that we are the only two in the room, I'm only brought back by a light breeze brushing across the back of my neck. It feels like Laura is encouraging me. That _has_ to be it; I see no fans or open doors. There is no other reason for that soft draft that just enveloped me. I settle in, more at ease with myself, and witness Ana's shoulders relax also. We look over our menus and discuss what to order, steering into a more neutral territory for conversation. I decide on the calamari scampi with asparagus tossed in white wine sauce while she orders the lasagna.

"Tell me about you," she says suddenly, leaning into the negative space between us over the table.

"There's not much to tell really, and quite frankly, Mia has already told you a lot about my life that I usually choose not to share given the pieces I heard back at the gallery." I try to keep the frustration out of my voice but fail miserably.

"She loves you, you know." Her hand moves across the table to rest on mine and my body sings at the contact. Not wanting it to end, I turn my hand to grasp hers, because as foreign as this is to me I know that I could do anything in the world with one hand as long as this woman is holding the other. My Beauty. She brings about a part of me no one has been able to reach since Laura died. How can this be possible? I've only known her name for a little more than an hour, how can I possibly feel this at home with her?

"I know…" I sigh and decide I need to tell her about me if she is to talk about how she came to kink. The street goes both ways. "I'm a renovator. I take properties and things that are broken and repurpose them, help the world see the beauty that once was again, and uncover the hidden potentials in things cast aside by our society. I'm adopted, but you know that now. My older brother Elliot is a landscaper and arborist while Mia is younger than me and a social worker for the state who loves to paint in her free time." I try to push through the words as quickly as possible. I hate talking about myself in any form or fashion.

"She does work of that caliber just in her off time? Holy shit." She says more to herself than me. When our eyes meet we both begin roaring with laughter. Full and cleansing laughter. We are brought to a halt as Dominic, our waiter, brings our dishes.

We make small talk about her work at the daycare and kennel as well as a more in-depth discussion about the projects I'm currently working on, such as The Mill.

"At the risk of sounding too forward, what brought you into the lifestyle?" I ask, walking the tightrope between risk and reward.

"Control," she says quickly with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Makes sense," I say with a raise of my eyebrows and a small smirk.

"What about you?" I'm going to have to open up to get her to do the same. Shit. Alright, here it goes.

"When I lost my sister, Laura, I felt responsible… No, I feel responsible," I correct. "Being able to care for my submissives in such an intimate way makes me feel like I'm getting a piece of myself back."

After a few minutes of silence she says softly, "Sounds like a type of penance to me."

"I suppose you're right, actually."

"I like feeling that responsibility for the submissive too. I'm only just beginning to end my training and am looking forward to stepping out on my own as a Domme, to establish my control in a completely independent light. This journey has been unlike any I've ever had and I feel cherished, needed, by my submissive… does that happen to you?"

"Not in the same way, but I completely understand where you're coming from. I don't feel cherished by my submissives usually, but I do hold our connection in the highest regard."

"Why have I only ever seen you scene in the big room?" She asks as curiosity takes over.

Our wine glasses have been refilled, our plates cleared, and before I can answer Dominic asks, "Can I interest either of you in a dessert this afternoon?"

"Do you want to split the golden oreo and caramel layer cake with me? I want to try it but would never be able to finish after all that lasagna I just ate!" The look in her eyes would cause me to do whatever she asked. I don't even like sweets normally… What the hell is happening to me? I nod just to see her returning smile as the waiter retreats to bring our dessert.

"Back to your question… Because it makes the scene less intimate for me. I want to take care of my submissives, and pride myself on doing so, but because I don't engage in anything involving actual sex in my play, we stay in the main room. One to free up space for those who need the privacy due to the nature of their scenes and two because part of me enjoys the public display." I feel ashamed as I revel to her the reasoning behind my decisions.

"You don't have sex with them? Ever?" I shake my head no and say the word to emphasize the point. But I would love to with you, Ana. Dear God, _would I ever…_ I would worship every inch of your body, indulge in each moment, and take care of you completely.

"I don't think I'm ready for that piece of responsibility as a Domme. Part of the reason I like the role is that it gives me control over my body. Can't touch me unless I say and only where I deem appropriate. I think adding in sex would complicate that. I'm definitely not ready for that step into the BDSM world yet. Is that strange? I'm sorry; I don't know why I'm pouring my soul out to you over our now half eaten dessert. I just feel so comfortable with you… like there's little need for explanation. It's unnerving, Christian." I have to replay her words to be sure I heard them correctly.

"I feel the same." Repeating her gesture from earlier, I reach across the table to hold her free hand and offer her a simple, shy smile. I'm unwilling to admit how strong I feel about her finding a submissive. I want her with me and no one else, regardless of the sexual elements. I want her. All of her. I'll do whatever it takes… Before I know it, I speak words I never imagined would fall from my mouth. "I would like to be your submissive, Ana. If you'll have me."

_What did I just do?_


	10. Ch: 10

AN: THANK YOU for all of your support, reviews, feedback, pm's, and everything. You guys make this process worth it, which is why this chapter took so long to get out... I've been struggling with some personal stuff and didn't want to give you a crap chapter. I hope this was worth the wait for you all! I'm open to any and all feedback - I hope you enjoy though!

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Ch 10:

Ana POV:

"You don't have sex with them? Ever?" I ask, painfully curious about his every choice as a Dom and acutely aware of my growing desire to submit to him. He makes me feel so safe and so cared for. How is that even possible? This is the first time I've had a real conversation with him and I feel completely understood. I let him hold me while I cried… And I loved it. I felt vulnerable but safe. Safety, that's a feeling that is few and far between in my world.

The words I say next shock me. I'm unaware of why I feel the need to divulge all of this information but it keeps spilling out of my mouth like seawater in a child's sand bucket as he runs across the beach. "I don't think I'm ready for that piece of responsibility as a Domme. Part of the reason I like the role is that it gives me control over my body. Can't touch me unless I say and only where I deem appropriate. I think adding in sex would complicate that. I'm definitely not ready for that step into the BDSM world yet. Is that strange? I'm sorry; I don't know why I'm pouring my soul out to you over our now half eaten dessert. I just feel so comfortable with you… like there's little need for explanation. It's unnerving, Christian." I can't tell how he's feeling but I am pulled into his grey ocean eyes while I wait for his response.

"I feel the same." He reaches over and holds my hand, reflecting my earlier gesture. It feels so intimate, so familiar, and so… right. I'm lost in the haze of the moment until his words snap me from my mist to the candlelit table and the sincerity in his eyes.

"I would like to be your submissive, Ana. If you'll have me." He looks as shocked as I must at his words, but his eyes are pleading with me to understand his intention. He wants this. Why does he want this? He is a Dominant. I am training to be a Dominant. It can't work. It won't work. How could it? Would it?...

"Why?" is the only word I can muster.

"I'm not sure I can explain it well enough. I only know that I want to be with you… I know you want to be a Domme for the sake of control and I can respect that. I understand that. I am drawn to you like I've never been to anyone before, there's no resisting this, and I've tried... Oh, have I tried. If a submissive is what you need then a submissive is what I'll be for you. I want to be whatever you need, whenever you need it." He pauses and runs his fingers through his thick copper hair, "Fuck, I sound like a lovesick puppy." Shaking his head he continues, "Ana, I don't want to scare you off, but I need to be honest with you. I've wanted to be close to you since the moment I saw you in the club. You were wearing dark jeans and a plain black tight fitted shirt. I went to speak with you but you left following Cam and Liam for a private room… I tried to distract myself by doing a scene with someone else but I couldn't get my mind off of you. For weeks you are all I've thought about, dreamt about. I know this sounds crazy, but I feel like I'm meant to know you and be close to you. I've never felt this way about anyone before. I keep trying to convince myself that its too soon for me to feel anything remotely this strong about a woman, but here I am ignoring all conscious thought because at the end of the day, I'm completely and utterly bewitched and captivated by you. Somehow you already make me want to be a better man. I want to be what you need. The role of a Dominant, in my eyes, is to give their partner everything they need to be comfortable, feel safe and cared for, and nurture their hopes and dreams. I want to be that for you and after this conversation I think the best way for me to care for you, to help keep you safe, in control, and continue your learning is to be your submissive. I am a trained Dominant, but the best Dominants are those who have bottomed before. I have done both and can bring a lot more to your training… if nothing else."

His sparkling eyes meet mine and I'm at a loss for words. He wants to know me? Why would he want that? I'm too broken for a man like him… Surely there is another woman better suited to his needs. I cannot be a submissive. I won't put myself under the control of someone else, even if I know down to my bones and the roots I imagine penetrating the earth during grounding visualization that he would never hurt me. _He hasn't said he wants you as a submissive._

"I... I'm not sure Christian. I mean, surely there is someone better suited to fulfill your needs as a Dom. I cannot be a submissive. I need the control right now. I'm broken, very broken, and you deserve better than I can provide you."

"But that's just it, Ana, I do not want you as a submissive. I want to be yours. I want to help heal you. Let me do this. For you." He catches my chin with his index finger and lifts my face to meet his gaze. I know he is speaking the truth, the fire behind his eyes warming my bones. "Hell, let me do this for me."

I breathe in his presence and close my eyes. "Okay." When I open my eyes, the fire in his blazes and the smile that breaks across his face fills my stomach with butterflies and shakes the ground beneath my feet. "But I have one condition, Christian."

"Anything." He says, still holding my chin, the warmth from his fingers acting as a live wire to my desire for him.

"I want us to also be friends. I want to get to know you outside of our relationship as Domme and sub at the club. I want to know all about you, spend time with you, and I want you to know me. Is that something you can agree to?"

"Without a doubt, my Mistress." He replies, a wicked gleam in his eye that jumpstarts my heart to a quickened pace. I gasp at his words as his hand lowers from my chin and remains upturned in the air, a silent invitation, "Shall we?"

"Yes. Please." I breathe.

I place my hand in his and he leaves the money on the table. We thank Dominic as we leave the restaurant and step into the sunshine. I pause to take in his features; bathed in sunlight he looks younger and more carefree. His grey button up is cuffed at the elbows, showing off his muscular forearms and his khaki pants are tight enough where I can make out the definition of his ass. _And what a fine ass that is, too. _I shake my head at my wayward thoughts and find my fingers wanting to trace the stubble on his jaw line, venture through his curly locks, and linger a moment too long in an embrace. Before my body can betray me and do something I will surely regret, I pull his hand in the direction of my apartment. Two glasses of wine have surely made me bold this afternoon…

I call Jess to see if she is home, asking if we need anything as I'm bringing a guest over for a little while. She sounds intrigued but doesn't press any further during the conversation. Twenty minutes later we arrive at my building with an arm full of groceries to make a chicken lemon roast.

"Miss Steele, how are you on this beautiful day?" Joe asks as he tips his hat to Christian and I.

"Very well, Joe! How are you?"

"Better now that I've seen your smile today." He replies as he opens the door, ushering us inside as I blush a deep crimson.

"This is a beautiful building." Christian comments as we take the stairs and I can hear the awe in his voice. Surely he must have grand ideas for what a place like this could soon look like, if only he could get his hands on it. _I wonder what it would feel like to have his hands on me…_ I quickly shut down the thought. No. I must not allow me mind to wander there. That is not something I'm even remotely ready for… is it?

We arrive at my door and Jess pulls it open before I have a chance to put in my key.

"Hi. I'm Jess, Ana's roommate." Holding her hand out to shake his, Christian introduces himself and takes her hand. A stick of jealousy pricks my heart and I find comfort that he quickly releases her grasp and steps inside.

"Ana, I've been home all day and have taken care of our to-do list," which I know means, don't go searching, the apartment is clean, just enjoy yourself. It feels strange to have a man in my home. Even Jess has never brought a man over, with the exception of our mutual friend Sean. Sean was a friend of ours from high school who is now a well-respected detective on the NYC Police Department. He was instrumental in keeping me safe during my breakdown over Griffin a few years back. He, along with Jess, were the one's who ordered me to seek professional guidance and visited me daily in the hospital; if one couldn't be there, the other was. He is the epitome of handsome; dark skin, dark hair, brown eyes, toned and fit, a five o'clock shadow that draws the sunshine in and a killer smile that radiates that same sunlight back out. He's caring and considerate and very very much into men. We would always joke as teens that if neither of us found someone to spend our lives with we'd marry one another, of course now I think that plan could change. Not that marrying Christian is even a thought at this point but somehow I figure this man is going to turn my life on its nose. I know in my bones that my clean, orderly, numb existence is about to change drastically and secretly I couldn't be more excited by that fact. I just hope I'm strong enough to handle it.

"Well as much as I'd love to hang out and relax, I need to get some work done before tomorrow, so I'll catch up with you two for dinner!" Jess pours herself a glass of white wine, snakes her arms around me for a quick hug, and disappears down the hall. Christian unpacks the groceries while I start seasoning the chicken and preparing the vegetables. We are relatively silent during this process, only speaking when necessary regarding where to put groceries away and how to prepare the food. Once the prep work is done everything goes into the refrigerator and we proceed to the living room with our glasses of wine. I follow him over to the couch, which is dark grey and covered in various shades of purple, grey, gold, and white throw pillows. He sits and picks up the pillow showing a deer picture and looks at me, his right eyebrow raised in a question.

Laughing I snatch it away from him and shake my head, "That's Jess' way of bringing nature into the big ol' city. Pathetic attempt if you ask me." He breaks into a fit of laughter with me as I settle back onto the cushions. The city lies behind us as dusk begins to fall and the string of Christmas lights hanging from our ceiling reflects on the windows. I sit cross-legged on the couch facing him, he's leaning back into the cushions twirling his glass of wine in his hand. How is it that this already feels comfortable, like I've known him forever? I'm normally a nervous ball of anxiety and hypersensitivity around men, flinching away at the slightest motion, but Christian settles my nerves, brings me into the moment, and grounds me. How? I'll need to talk to Kate and Marissa both about this, as well as Cam and Jess. It's too big for me to figure out right now. Jess's whispered words from her hug before vanishing to her office ring through my mind, _Just enjoy tonight, deal with everything else as it follows, Ace._ Okay, I think I can do that. Just tonight. It's only just tonight.

"Would you like to talk about some limits for our relationship Ana?" He asks, his eyes burning with a curiosity so strong it quickens the pace of my heart. Holy shit. This is for real. We're really going to do this.

"Sure. What are your already established hard and soft limits since you've been in the game longer?"

Grinning at my words he replies, "You beat me to it. I was going to have you go first." Grasping the deer pillow firmly in my hand I swat him on the back of the head playfully and encourage him to answer my question through my giggles.

"Hard limits… I do not do electricity, needles, food play, or canes as a Dom or a sub. I won't do suspension as a submissive. I like scenes to just be between myself and my partner, no additives in any way, no threesomes, nothing like that. Soft limits I'm very open to discussing. As a submissive, anal play for me is something we'd have to discuss prior to the scene. Blindfolding is also something we'll need to be completely open about if you want to use it with me; I also like my control, Ana. It will take trust for me to be able to give that over completely to you. But I'm confident we can and will get there. All we need is open communication. There are other things that will come up as we go but again, we'll keep communication open. Your turn."

"Okay. I agree to all of your hard limits adding no broken bones, skin, or promises. If we say we are or are not going to do something then I need that to be held in the highest esteem." _No broken hearts or spirits either…. Both are so fragile for me right now. _I need him to understand how hard this is going to be for me.

"Of course."

"And since we are to be in this relationship with one another, I want there to be a relationship outside of the club also." His eyes light up at the suggestion, I better clarify that. "A friendship." His eyes drop at the same rate as my stomach. I don't even know this man yet, how can I already want more than just a friendship? Fuck me.

_Oh, I like the sounds of that. _Where the hell did that come from?

"Soft limits… I can't have the sexual piece involved. I need you not to touch me unless I give you permission particularly if we're at the club. Especially after that incident the last time I was there..." He looks down at his wine glass and is silent, as if looking for answers in the golden liquid in his hand and I'm itching for him to break the silence.

Somehow sensing my discomfort and silent pleas he asks, "So when do we start, Mistress?" Those words are like music to my ears but they feel strange outside the confines of the club walls. Well, showtime, Ace, it starts here and now.

"Tomorrow night. 9pm." Wow. That felt good, really good. Confidence flairs in my blood and I lean in close to whisper in his ear, "Are you ready, Stud?" His eyes close as if he's relishing my proximity, he turns his face to look at mine and our noses are just a whisper away.

"I'm more ready for this than I've ever been for anything," he breathes. When he finally opens his eyes, they're ablaze with some unnamed emotions… Desire? Fear? Lust? Sorrow? Adoration? Not wanting to sit too long with the feelings raging inside my own body as a result of his stare, our conversation, and his closeness, I lean back and stand, taking our glasses to refill and begin working on dinner.

Christian remains on the couch but has turned his back to me, looking out the window. We're quite while I chop the green and yellow bell peppers as well as the onion and mince the garlic. As I sauté the vegetables he comments on how beautiful the city is at night. I have to agree. I've never been anywhere in the world that made me feel hope like the New York City skyline after nightfall; not that I've been many places at all. The lights still buzzing on through all hours makes it rarely dark, daylight 24-7 in a sense, and that is a beautiful thing in my world.

"Have you ever traveled anywhere else?" He asks, still staring out the window.

"Not really." I reply to his back. "I've been to California, Florida, and Canada on vacations, Georgia to see family, and Connecticut for camp when I was a teen. Other than that, NYC has been it. What about you?"

He begins making his way into the kitchen to lean against the counter next to me. "I've traveled a lot actually, just to name a few, I backpacked through Europe when I was in college and spent time in India. I've been to every state besides Idaho, Nebraska, and Wisconsin."

"Just to name a few?" Quirking my eyebrow, I look to find his grey eyes staring back at me, humor dancing behind them. His copper hair is a stark contrast to the white cabinetry and tiled walls as well as the light gray counter tops.

"Yup, just a few." He winks and turns away to pour us both more wine, right on cue my insides melt with desire and longing. How the hell am I going to be able to resist this man? I need more time. But being so close to him is going to make that damn near impossible. With his back still turned, I take a few cleansing breaths, I can worry tomorrow, there's no need for me to destroy tonight.

_I can do this. I can keep my control and confidence AND be friends with him... Just friends. I. Can. Do. This. _I repeat the words over and over in my head to contain the tornado of feelings swirling in my stomach.

"Can I help at all?" He asks as he reaches an arm around me to place the wine glass on the counter. His closeness is so intoxicating I feel the need to grip the marble ledge of the counter for support. Leaning in to whisper in my ear, his words and breathing equally horse, "Do you know how excited I am to begin tomorrow night?"

"Hey Ana! Change in plans, Dean called; I'm heading out to the club tonight. Do you want to come with or hang here?" At the sound of Jess' voice venturing closer to the kitchen down the hallway, I stiffen, each hair standing on end, as Christian leans in and places a small kiss just under my right ear before backing away like nothing happened.

"Ace, did you hear me? What happened? You look like you've seen a ghost." I can see the worry plaguing her soft features but the words are stuck somewhere in the back of my throat. Only at the sound of Christian's stifled laughter do I snap back to reality and whisper a reply.

"I'm fine here. You go ahead. Tell Dean I say hello."

She smiles knowingly at me, no doubt gloating in being right all those weeks ago that my mystery Dom would end up being a force in my life I'd never be able to ignore. "No need to cook for me, we're having dinner then going to play. I'll let you know if any plans change. Let me know if the forecast calls for rain and I'll come right home, you understand, Ace?"

I nod in agreement and feel a security blanket of safety cover my form. Letting one another know if the forecast calls for rain is our code for I'm about to have a breakdown and I need support, love, a bottle or two of wine, and my best friend stat.

"Alright, call if you need me. I'll see you later."

"Be safe Boo." I call after her. "Nice to meet you." Christian says as the door closes and Jess gives one last wink, leaving just the living breathing reason why my life has become colored again from frame after frame of black and white and I standing alone in my kitchen, hearts beating at an irregular quickened pace and an electricity singing through the air.

"Umm," I clear my throat in an ill-fated attempt to clear my mind and gather my courage, "Since you said you can't wait until tomorrow night, would you like to begin tonight?" My voice is small and shakes ever so slightly as the words leave my mouth.

"What did you have in mind?" He swallows hard and stalks toward me again from across the kitchen. How am I supposed to resist him? I thought I was signed up to be the Domme but there is no realm of possibility that paints me possessing any ounce of control around him. He resumes his position with his hands on either side of the counter beside me but this time my front is to his and I have to fight the urge to lift my chin and press my lips to his.

"A little trust exercise?" I breathe. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes." At his confession my confidence ignites and I suddenly have a plan in place.

"Good. I'm ordering out. Go relax on the couch, find something good on tv, and I'll be there in a minute." He stands just looking in my eyes for a minute before blinking several times and pushing back away from me. "Well, Stud, what are you waiting for?" I ask, raising an eyebrow in his direction.

He obeys immediately and I go to my room in search of some things to help with our little play session tonight. Finding everything I'm looking for quickly I head back into the kitchen and place an order to Pin Wa for Pad Thai and a platter for two.

"Keep your eyes trained on the television. Do not watch what I am doing. Do not speak until you are given permission. Do you understand? You may answer."

"Yes, Mistress, I will not speak or look at you or your actions until I am given permission."

"I do not intend for us to need a safeword tonight, however, I would like you to pick one anyway. What will your safewords be?"

"Fire to let you know I'm nearing my limit and Ice to let you know I've reached it."

"Fire and Ice, correct?"

"Yes, Mistress. Fire and Ice."

Liam always used Yellow and Red, but I like Christian's choices better… and they fit him. I smile at his choice of words and shake my head slightly to return my attention to my task.

I spread a few books, movies, sweatshirts, shoes, and pillows onto the floor in the living room and moving down the hallway. Once everything is in place I head back to retrieve Christian who I find sitting obediently on the couch, eyes trained on the television.

"Hey there Stud." I say as I move to be a barrier between him and whatever show happens to be on HGTV at the moment. "I want you to trust me. I am well aware trust must be earned and that is what we will begin working on right now. I want you to give yourself over to me, if you feel uncomfortable or nervous just use your safewords, Fire or Ice, and we will stop to discuss what is going on for you. Do you understand me? You may answer." My voice is soft and wrapping around him like a cashmere scarf on a cold December morning.

"Yes, Mistress, I understand."

I turn, switch off the television, and extend my hand to Christian. The moment his skin touches mine a fire quickly spreads through my system, catching my breath in my throat.

"I want you to close your eyes, keep holding my hands, and follow me." In the last moments before closing his eyes, we maintain eye contact and I try to analyze the myriad of expressions being portrayed to me in this one stare. Vulnerability was the most present. I must take care of him. This is my job. This is my responsibility. My heart flutters in anticipation as I take his other hand in mine and walk slowly backward through the maze of my things. I examine his features for any sign of distress as I continue to lead him but find that he is placing all trust into my hands, literally, in this moment. The feeling is heady and I find a warmth gathering in my core. I stop and press my thighs together; thanking the good lord with everything I have that he cannot read my mind and that his eyes are closed so he cannot read my body either. I stop outside the door to my room, debating whether I want to take him inside or not, but a split second decision wins out and I turn him into my sacred space.

"Keep your eyes closed please. I want to explain why I chose to lead you through the obstacles I created on our walk here." He nods and obeys my request. "I've never had a man in my apartment with the exception of a friend form high school, never mind in my own room. This place is my safe haven. It is my fortress. I appreciate how difficult it is to trust someone with your wellbeing, especially when they are leading you through obstacles and you've no idea where you're headed or what you may step on. Thank you for trusting me…" I swallow hard and take a deep breath before continuing, "Now I'm going to trust you." I walk back over to him and grab his hands again, inhaling his strong and soothing scent to calm my quaking nerves. "You may open your eyes."

His gaze rests on me, searching for permission to look around the room, which he receives at my gentle nod. He looks around, taking in my soft teal walls, patterned bedding filled with a myriad of colors, and henna floral tapestry hanging in place of a headboard. He walks over to my small oak bookcase and thumbs over the bindings before pulling out the most worn one, a collection of poems by Robert Frost. He smiles, opens it, and begins half reading, half reciting the text.

_Some say the world will end in fire,_

_Some say in ice._

_From what I've tasted of desire_

_I hold with those who favor fire._

_But if it had to perish twice,_

_I think I know enough of hate_

_To say that for destruction ice_

_Is also great_

_And would suffice._

His choice of safewords finally coming clearly into view, confirming my suspicions that this was the reference for them.

"You know these words well too?" I ask as I wander over to sit on the edge of my bed. Feeling utter awe at my ease with having him in my room, especially when we are alone in the apartment.

"Yes."

"Why did you choose them as your safewords, if you don't mind my asking?"

"To me Frost's words are asking the age old question of which way is better for it all to end. During a scene when I am in the submissive role, desire can tend to take over, fire can blur my senses and in return my judgment. I can easily become wrapped up in the scene, wanting solely to please my Mistress and feel the honor that comes from doing so. However, I'm well aware of what happens when that trust is taken too far and how quickly I can turn cold from that. In my previous relationship where I subbed for Elena, I allowed her to blind me from my limits and myself, she pushed them all and I've never contemplated returning to the role of submissive until you. Somehow I know you won't take me to those dark and cold places anymore. But nevertheless, ice is a reminder of that for me, is a reminder of how stark the contrasts can be in one pure element of a relationship, in one moment, one instance. It will help keep me grounded to my ideals and foundations rather than allow me to blindly follow your demands simply because you've spoken them."

I try to absorb all of his words but they are floating in a haze around my brain and I'm unable to fully grasp any of them as the whiz by my consciousness, just out of reach.

"Why would you want to put yourself back in this position then? I don't understand…" I whisper, still trying to comprehend his speech.

"I told you already. I want to help you heal and honestly in that, I'm certain, I'll find healing myself." He walks forward and places a hand under my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his, "I need this just as much as you do."

He leans forward closing the distance between our lips, pausing a breath away from mine, his eyes begging permission to finish the journey he's already begun. I nod slightly, I think, I can't be sure as I feel like I've turned to stone, frozen in fear, anticipation, and excitement. When his lips meet mine I feel how soft and tender he is, physically and emotionally. His intentions are pure and I bask in the white light surrounding us. As I fall deeper into the kiss, my eyes flutter closed and my shoulders relax. He may be literally holding my face in the palms of his hands but for all intents and purposes it should be my heart beating wildly in his strong grasp, completely at his mercy.


	11. Ch: 11

AN: Been going through a lot lately personally so I apologize for the lack of updates on all my stories - they're coming, I promise! That being said - THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for all of your feedback and support on this story! It means the world to me and I hope to be able to start responding again to the reviews. But I read and appreciate each and everyone! Enough out of me, enjoy... and please let me know what you think ;).

all my love, Bri

ps- a big thank you to my betas! Wren and Toni you both are brilliant! & to Nani for helping me describe the music from the DVD.

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"Can you grab the food while I set the table? The money is on the counter." I call to Christian as the doorbell rings for a second time. He leaves the room and I take a moment to breathe, five deep breaths in and out to calm my now very awake and alert libido as well as my mind that is racing in circles. I can't believe he just kissed me. I've never truly been kissed like that, ever. Man, was that worth the wait. I'm no virgin; mind you. No, that ship sailed long ago, but I've never been invested in the small intimacies of a sexual relationship. Sex was always a means to an end in my life. "Family," and I use that term incredibly loosely, said it would prove that I loved them. The boys I hooked up with from the age of 11 to 15 fed into that rational and belief; if they sleep with me, they love me… right? Wrong. Griffin used it as a weapon.

_"Come on, Ana. You can't hold out on me now. I love you. You're mine. Now show me how much you love me. Get on your knees and fucking show me."_

_ His hands are harsh around my upper arms, nails digging into the skin. _

_ "No, Griffin. No. Stop it. Please… You're hurting me."_

My pleas fell on deaf ears each and every time. Each instance progressed until finally he snapped and the rest is my history. My ugly, broken, shattered, emotionally fucked up history. Littered with the pieces to my traumatized heart, wounded ego, and any shred of trust I had ever built with anyone, especially a man. I can feel my breath quicken and my vision start to blur as my flashbacks take over. I try to fight it but the memories are too strong. I hear footsteps coming down the hall and freeze. No. He's coming for me.

"Ana?" The strong voice I hear is not the one I fear. Christian stops at the doorway and his face falls when he sees me. "Hey, what's wrong?" He asks as he walks over and kneels in front of me.

I feel the tears and sweat pouring from my face and my heartbeat racing in my throat. I swallow the bile fighting to escape from my mouth and whisper, "I… I… I…" I have no idea what I need, I can't explain to him what my demons are, then he surely would never want me. I just need him here with me for now, right now. "Hold me… please?" I manage through the tears and I relax again as his strong arms wrap protectively around me. It feels like an eternity before I am free of the shudders of my silent sobs, and here Christian is, holding me, without a sound. It feels as though he is trying to bind me to him so no more harm may ever come to me. Feeling shrouded in comfort, light, strength, and protection I finally come up for air, pushing back to look him in his magnificent gray eyes. Concern and care are pouring off him in waves, crashing upon my skin. I lean in, close my eyes, and push my lips gently onto his, "Thank you," I whisper when I pull away. His eyes are closed a fraction longer than mine and I notice the tension gathered around his brow and the contrasting curve now gracing his lips.

"What do you say we go eat some delicious delivery?" I ask, leaning in to leave a soft kiss on the crown of his head. "I already put away our other dinner in the refrigerator to save us the trouble later."

"Let's," he says, but neither of us moves. My lips remain firmly on his forehead and his hands are placed strategically on the outsides of my thighs. Our moment is broken by a rumble from my stomach that closely resembles what I could only describe as an alien language begging for nourishment. Laughing, our eyes meet and reluctantly he pushes up from his knees and I place my hand in his, following him to the kitchen.

After thoroughly stuffing our faces and drinking two more glasses of wine Jess sends me a text that she will be home in just a few minutes with a "scorching hot surprise". That happens to be how she describes Dean so one can only assume he will be coming back to the apartment with her. Breaking all the girl's crash pad rules in one night, are we?

After cleaning the dishes and putting away our leftovers, the door swings open, Jess and Dean on the other side.

"Come on in guys! We're just finishing up dinner." When I hear no reply I look around the door of the refrigerator only to be met with the confused looks on both their faces.

"What the hell did you guys do while I was gone?" Jess asks, winking at me. Her blonde hair is down in curls around her shoulders, while her white dress with sheer three-quarter length sleeves hangs effortlessly from her body. Her legs look as if they go on forever in her salmon strappy-heels, which I assume are matched by her lace thong she dragged me to search out a few weeks ago.

_"Ana! I need the perfect clothing for the long weekend's scenes. Dean and I have been talking a lot about taking our relationship to the next level and you know how I feel if I have the right accessories. I need to feel fierce. Help me feel fierce, Ace! Please?" _

Christ, she begged for an hour before I finally agreed. I hate shopping with other people. If I'm shopping alone, I'm a woman on a mission, setting out to ease the ache ever-present in my chest, but when I shop with someone else, it holds me back from that. I tend to feel anxious and enclosed, stuck by their side.

"Trust exercises." Christian shrugs by way of explanation, as if that should automatically satisfy all their curiosity. I'm shocked when it works and Jess prods no further, but I know deep down I'll have more details to shell out once these gentlemen leave the building.

I take in Dean's blue jeans, black boots and matching v-neck t-shirt, and the bold Armani cuff watch at his wrist. His green eyes scan the apartment then he leans in and leaves a kiss beneath Jess' right ear.

"We know those well, don't we girl?"

Jess blushes, smiles, and nods. "Yes, Sir." She takes a deep breath and silently looks to Dean for permission to speak; he gives her a lopsided smile and squeezes her hand gently. "How about some popcorn and a movie?"

"Yes!" I say, bouncing up and down with excitement. I love movie nights with Jess. Sometimes we love to mute the volume and give the script our own flare, giving characters new voices and the plotline new twists. It has come to be one of my favorite things about living with her.

After changing into our pajamas, Jess and I gather two bowls of popcorn and a glass of wine for each of us while the men sit on the couch talking construction and insurance. Dean is a bigwig insurance agent for the larger companies in the country. It sounds, from their conversation, that they have worked together on various projects and the thought makes me smile. One less thing I have to worry about, he appears to already be in the good graces of those around me.

"Did you guys pick a movie?" Jess asks when we start to settle into the couch next to the two gorgeous men, who are now considerably overdressed given our change of clothes, already taking up residence on it.

"Well your selection is rather… limited." Christian starts and Dean stifles his laugh. "We picked the least of all evils in that rather impressive collection of chick-flick and rom-com and came up with _50 First Dates._"

"Sounds good!" Jess squeals as she props the pillow to "perfect plush" between us. I mentally shake my head at Jess and both her 'original vocabulary' and choice of pajamas tonight. She's wearing her "Spooning leads to forking" bright yellow tank top and the matching pant bottoms. Dean's eyes danced with the possibilities when she walked into the living room wearing them. Out of the corner of my eye I watch him lean to whisper in her ear, which apparently he's not very good at considering I can make out every word. _Are you ready for the fallout from wearing an outfit that is going to tease me this much tonight, Miss Jones? You are so fucking sexy, my girl. I can't wait to be back inside you._

I blush and quickly fidget with my own clothing in an attempt to recover the humility that they are apparently lacking at the moment. Christian shakes his head, no doubt overhearing their exchange as well and places his hand on my knee. I'm curled into a ball next to him, our only contact his hand on my leg, but I feel so close to him. His fingers begin tracing the vertical lines of blue and white on my pants while I fiddle with the sleeves of my chemise long sleeve sleep dress. It is my most comfortable sleepwear when I'm feeling anxious; having Christian and Dean both here for what in all intents and purposes is a double date has those butterflies doing pirouettes and grand jetés all around my stomach. I needed the security and comfort of a good shirt.

After a full hour and a half of laughing at the antics of Adam Sandler, Drew Barrymore, and Rob Schneider, Jess and Dean call it a night and disappear into her room. I start to pick up the mess of popcorn on the seat cushions and covering the floor, from an impromptu food fight at the hands of Jess and Dean, when I feel a pair of strong arms wrap around my waist and Christian places his chin on my shoulder. I stiffen momentarily then close my eyes, exhale, and relax into his embrace. We sway back and forth to the sound of the DVD menu song on a loop, a lighthearted island sound filling the air around us. For a moment I can almost feel the wind in my hair as we stand on the bow of a sailboat basking in the tropical sunshine.

"I can't wait until tomorrow." Christian says as he turns me to face him, keeping his hands at my waist. I wrap my hands around his neck and lean back to look him in the eyes.

"Me neither."

He leans in and pushes his lips to my forehead, pulling me in closer to him. His heart is beating wildly against his ribcage and mine mirrors his pace.

"Do you see what you do to me, Ana? What wonderful magic you weave, my Beauty. What wonderful magic indeed."

My breath hitches in my throat. Beauty? Magic? Wonderful? Surely, he must have me confused with someone else, but before any self-doubt can creep fully into the depths my mind to combat these words his lips falling tenderly onto mine silence my thoughts.

"I look forward to your call tomorrow, Mistress," he says as he picks up his cellphone and wallet and heads for the door. I feel bereft and I don't want him to leave. No. No. No. No. Think fast, Ace. No, he can't stay. He needs to go home and I need to go to sleep. But I secretly hope the hours until we meet again will pass quickly. I see him out and after watching him begin down the stairs, close the door, lock it, and leaning against it, I slide down and find myself grinning like a fool.

"Ace, what are you doing?" Jess asks, surprised as she comes into the kitchen for a glass of water.

"Sitting. Smiling. You know." I say as nonchalant as possible.

"Oh yeah? Do tell."

"What about green eyes in there?"

"He's sound asleep. I wore him out." She says, wiggling her eyebrows and shoulders suggestively.

"I'm sure you did."

"So… I'm waiting..." She encourages, joining me in my spot in front of the door. I can't help but shake my head at us both, sitting on the floor with our backs against the door panel, our lips curved into now almost painful smiles.

"Well, we talked, a lot. About everything too, from travel, to work, to the club… I really like him… a lot. Like, a lot a lot a lot." I laugh and burry my face in my hands. "I can't believe this! I feel like a 13-year-old girl with a school yard crush!"

"You kind of are, Ace. No offense, but really, you missed this step when we were growing up. The courting, dating, butterflies, romance. You jumped right into bed with the boys because you had zero self-worth. I'm glad you're here, giddy and excited. It's refreshing Babe!"

"Yeah. I guess you're right, aren't you? But that's not all." I swallow hard and touch my fingertips to my lips remembering how soft his felt on mine... "He kissed me… And I let him. I didn't freak out. Well not completely, slight freak out, the beginnings of one, but I quickly recovered when he brought me back from the edge. More than once he was my rock today and I felt secure and safe… _so_ fucking safe. It's incredible, amazing, and so scary. I feel like he already holds a piece of me in his hands and has all the power to break me. This is crazy, isn't it? I mean, all of this, him and I, it's crazy right?"

"I will play no part in enhancing your delusions that whatever's happening between you and Christian is crazy, Ace. I think you'll find it to be exactly what you need." With that she pats her hand on my knee and rises from the floor to turn in for the night. I take her leave as my cue and check the locks on the door one last time before heading into the bathroom to brush my teeth then going to bed. As I pull my throw pillows off the bed and crawl under my quilt, I double check that my knife is in place and breathe a sigh of relief when it is. Drifting off to sleep still sporting that ridiculous grin, my cellphone lights up and whistles, alerting me of a text message. That's odd, especially past eleven when Jess is sleeping next door. I check the screen and see a number programmed under "Stud Muffin: Christian" and the smile breaks my face in two again. Shaking my head, I lay back down to respond.

* * *

**Mistress, I hope I have pleased you this evening, but truthfully, the pleasure was all mine. I am very much looking forward to tomorrow. PS, I hope you don't mind my intrusion putting my number into your phone. – C.**

* * *

**Dearest Stud Muffin, You most certainly pleased me tonight. I'm not sure I've smiled this much in ages. Thank you. PS, I, too, am looking forward to tomorrow. – A.**

* * *

I hope that wasn't too forward. Damn it. He's going to think I'm some miserable girl who never smiles, freezes when he kisses her, and freaks out crying in art galleries.

_At the moment, you are that girl, Ace. But you're healing; growing pains are natural. _

I don't know where the voice of reason has come from in the depths of my mind, normally that bitch is snarky and degrading. While appreciating this change of pace I see another message come through from Christian.

* * *

**A, Could I interest you in meeting me to finally spend time at Mia's showcase in the afternoon? Say three o'clock? – The Muffin Man.**

* * *

His signature causes a giggle to escape my mouth and my fingers fly to the source of the sound to silence it. I trace my bottom lip with my index finger, still in awe of the events that took place earlier this evening. He kissed me! Feeling as though I am spinning circles round and round with my arms spread wide in the middle of a field of wildflowers in the midst of the summer sun, I draft my reply.

* * *

**I do like muffins… but I work until five. Would 5:15 work for you instead? I could meet you at the Gallery. – A.**

* * *

**5:15 works perfectly. I'll meet you outside the Gallery. Until then…**

* * *

My heart stutters in my chest for a beat before I can configure a response.

* * *

**Hey Stud, promise me you'll dream of me tonight?**

* * *

**I wouldn't dare dream of anything else, Beauty.**

* * *

I won't say it, but I know I'll only dream of him as well. My mind, reeling with tomorrow's possibilities, finally allows me to fall into a deep sleep filled to capacity with excitement and anticipation.


End file.
